DeStaav Pokémon Investigation Bureau
by Mr. Garbanzo
Summary: Somewhat inspired by the Pokémon Mystery Dungeon series. A cigar-chomping tough-guy Jigglypuff runs a detective agency that seems just about ready to go under from lack of business... until they get a case to track down a mysterious entity that has repeatedly attacked travelers in the northern woods.
1. One Last Job

**DeStaav Pokémon Investigation Bureau**

**Chapter 1: One Last Job**

A crowd had gathered around two injured Pokémon, lying on the outskirts of town among the tall grasses and overhanging trees that made up its border. One, a Hariyama, was lying on his back and seemed barely conscious; the other, an elderly Lucario whose fur's familiar blue and black had both shifted to a silvery blue-gray with the ravages of age, was crouched low to the ground and breathing heavily. Both had clearly been in a fight—their bodies were marred with bruises and strange burns, and the Hariyama's clothing was in tatters.

"What happened to you guys?"

"Yeah," another member of the crowd called out, peeking over the larger Pokémon in front in an attempt to get a better view. "Who did this to you?"

"I… I don't know," the Hariyama muttered, groaning and coughing. "It was an ambush…"

The large-bodied Pokémon attempted to pull himself to his feet, but was unable to muster up enough strength and slumped to the ground once again.

"I was hit from behind," he continued, turning his head slightly toward the nearby trees. "I don't know what… some kind of psychic attack, I think… and before I could react, it hit me again from the side. If it wasn't for Elder Lukhan, then I… I believe I surely would have died."

The Elder in question, the ancient Lucario, turned toward the direction of the crowd's voices. Lukhan could not see the other Pokémon gathered around him, at least not in the way that anyone else could see; his eyesight had begun to fail him years before, and he now wore a blindfold over his nearly-useless eyes so that what little vision he had left would not interfere with his superior aura sense. It was with this sixth sense that he could pinpoint each of the creatures standing around him, from the tiny flicker of energy that was a young Pidgey to the brighter lights of Mareeps, Linoones, and a single Pidgeot.

"I arrived shortly after he was attacked," the old Lucario began, slowly standing up to his full height and leaning on a wooden staff that he carried. "But as for the identity of his attacker… I cannot say. Its aura signature was that of a species I have never seen before."

"Didja fight it off?", the Pidgey chirped, fluttering up above the larger Pokémon and landing on the back of a Piloswine. "Where'd it go?"

"Unfortunately… it seemed that nothing I could do had much effect on the creature," the Elder sighed. "I launched a Dragon Pulse at the creature when I arrived, but it seemed to shrug it off without any difficulty… it counterattacked with a blast of some kind of unusual energy, but then seemed to be startled by something and fled the scene."

He paused and took a breath, then continued.

"By the time I had recovered from its attack, it had vanished into the forest. I could only barely sense its presence… there was no way I could have caught up with it at that point."

He wobbled for a moment, bracing himself with his staff; at his age, it was hardly surprising that he wouldn't have been able to give chase. Still, what he had said worried the other Pokémon. Though old, he was still powerful; his body may have grown frail with age, but an attack like Dragon Pulse, drawing upon his inner strength rather than the strength of his muscles, would not have been weakened by mere physical changes. Whatever monster could shrug off such a powerful technique as easily as this one apparently had would be a serious threat to almost anyone in the little Pokémon village if it happened to return.

Something had to be done about this, before rumors of a mysterious attacker lurking in the woods drove the village into a panic.

* * *

In a cramped and extremely dusty room, a Jigglypuff rooted around in a filing cabinet, pulling out several incredibly full folders and tossing them onto one of the nearby tables. A Squirtle walked into the room with a somewhat dazed look on his face, blinking several times at the sheer dustiness of the room. He removed his glasses, attempting to wipe off the layer of dust but only succeeding in leaving behind an annoying smudge on each lens. The little turtle grunted slightly and then turned away from the Jigglypuff, attempting to clean off the offending dirt with a weak spray of water, but apparently he didn't know his own strength—what was intended to just spray the glasses enough to clear them of dust instead sent them flying out of his stubby blue hands, tumbling to the floor with a splash.

"_What the __**hell!?**_", the Jigglypuff suddenly shouted in a voice far deeper and more manly than one would ever expect to hear coming out of such a pink and fluffy Pokémon. "Damn it, Ed! Whaddya doin' sprayin' water around here, ya freakin' blind cave turtle? You're gonna ruin all my papers if you ain't careful!"

The Squirtle groaned. He'd only been there for a few days, and this was already at least the tenth time he'd accidentally called down the Jigglypuff's wrath.

"Sorry, Fat-Head," he blurted out, turning back toward his round, pink coworker after drying his glasses with a stray bandana someone had left lying on the floor nearby. "I didn't mean to make such a mess, I just—"

"And what'd I tell ya before about my name?"

The Jigglypuff sat the folders aside and turned around in his chair. He pointed to his hat, which had a miniature plaque sewn into the front to act as a nametag. Engraved quite clearly across it was the rather unfortunately-spelled name "Fatheade DeStaav."

"It's Fatheade. Pronounced '_fah-theeeeed!_' And you better get it right next time, or I swear, I'm gonna…"

Fatheade just stood still and shook one of his fists in Ed's direction, mouth half-open, for a few seconds afterward. His rant was interrupted by the sight of a Chikorita standing at the other end of the hall, a heavy-looking mailbag slung over her shoulder. Immediately his eyes widened and the angry look on his face vanished, replaced with a slightly awkward grin. With one stubby, flipper-like arm, he waved.

The Squirtle blinked, confused by Fatheade's sudden change in behavior, then turned just in time to see the Chikorita turning to head off down a different hallway. He turned back toward Fatheade, and of course the look on his pink, pudgy face was even more ridiculous than before.

"_Whoo!_ Did ya check out the tail on _that_ one?", he said, just quietly enough that the Chikorita wouldn't be able to hear if she happened to still be just around the corner. "And that leaf—did ya _see_ how long and shiny that leaf was? _Damn_, I'm glad our old mailman retired!"

"Aw, come on," Ed mumbled, rolling his eyes. "She's not even in your egg group…"

Fatheade grinned even wider and narrowed his eyes, leaning closer to the Squirtle and whispering.

"Who ever said anything about _eggs?_"

He groaned and turned away.

"Um… I think I'm just going to go check the mail," he said, plodding off down the hallway and carefully avoiding the small puddle he had created just a minute or so earlier. "Who knows, maybe we'll have a new job this time?"

Fatheade snorted.

"Don't bet on it, kid," he said, turning back around in his chair and picking up one of the folders once again. "Last time we had a _real_ job was weeks before you even got here. Hell, I'm almost thinkin' of closin' down this business and movin' on if it keeps on like this for too much longer..."

* * *

"So, anything interesting in the mail today?"

The Chikorita stopped just short of the door, turned, and shrugged. As far as the Squirtle could see, her mailbag didn't seem to be any less full than before; if they _had_ gotten any mail, it wasn't much.

"Looked like just a couple of plain envelopes to me," she said, "A couple of bills for somebody named 'Fat-Head,' and another one from some tiny little village up north... so, I'm guessing that's a no."

The Squirtle snickered; for a moment, he almost wished Fatheade had been there to hear the most recent object of his inappropriate affections butcher his name just like everyone else did. He then waved goodbye to the leafy mail-carrier and headed over to the mailboxes, passing by Fatheade's box (which undoubtedly contained nothing but the bills he had been letting pile up for weeks already) and moving toward the box reserved for mail that wasn't addressed to any specific member of the team.

"This must be it," he said, picking up the lone envelope. "Return address is somewhere called 'Polunk Village'… so I guess that must be the place north of here, then."

"Polunk, huh?", a quiet voice from somewhere above him said. "Yeah… that's about four days' walk from here… if you make it quick."

For a moment, the turtle glanced around, not seeing anyone. He then, finally, looked up and discovered that a reddish-colored bug Pokémon was attached to the ceiling overhead, antennae twitching slightly. For a moment, the twitches of the antennae stopped entirely; then, the bug suddenly rolled into a ball and came crashing down, narrowly missing the Squirtle and bouncing to the other side of the hallway on impact, leaving behind a small dent in the floor.

"Yeah… I bet you'd take a little longer to get all the way up there," the mystery Pokémon said, uncurling her body and revealing herself as a Venipede. "Maybe even a full week if Fatheade tags along."

"Go on," another voice from above said. "Open it. We wanna see."

The Squirtle recognized this voice right away—and he couldn't help but roll his eyes in response to what it had said.

"You don't even have _eyes,_ Varney," he said, briefly glancing up at the corner of the ceiling where the Zubat's voice had come from. "And don't even try to tell me you can read with echolocation again, that's just ridiculous!"

"Not as ridiculous as you spitting up _sparkling spring water_," the bat snickered, swooping down and latching onto the mailboxes as if attempting to get a closer look despite his lack of eyes. "Now c'mon, open that thing up!"

The Squirtle nodded, glancing to Varney the Zubat and Lopendra the Venipede for just a moment each before focusing his attention on the envelope in his hands. He carefully removed the wax seal holding it shut and tucked it inside his shell for safekeeping, then lifted the letter itself out of its container.

"Let's see," he said, skimming over the letter while the other two Pokémon watched (or leaned in and pretended to watch, in the case of the eyeless Varney.) "It says it's from one of the town elders of Polunk Village… something about a series of mysterious attacks on residents and travelers over the past few weeks. And they suspect that the culprit is…"

He paused. Did he just read that right?

"What?", the Venipede asked, rearing up to get a better look at the letter, "The culprit is what?"

"I don't know if you guys are gonna believe this," the turtle said, "But it says here… that they think the attacker might be either an unknown species of Pokémon… or not a Pokémon at all."

At that moment, Fatheade waddled into the room, overhearing just enough to know that something unexpected had come in the mail that day (and it wasn't just the new mail-carrier, either.) He walked up to the trio of Pokémon that were gathered around the letter, waiting for just a moment before speaking up.

"So you're sayin' somebody's gonna hire us to track down a new species?"

The Squirtle spun around suddenly, not expecting to hear Fatheade's voice in the mailroom. He then nodded slightly and continued reading the letter, mentioning bits that seemed significant as he came to them.

"The mystery attacker used blasts of some form of energy, possibly psychic," he said, "Ambushed a Hariyama and nearly killed him… shrugged off a Dragon Pulse from the town elder like it was nothing… but then seemed to get startled by something and run away."

"What kinda Pokémon is this place's Elder again?", Fatheade said, leaning against the wall near the mailboxes. "Said he busted out a Dragon Pulse… so is he a Dragon-type or what?"

"Says right here the name is Elder Lukhan," the Squirtle said, "And that he's a Lucario."

Fatheade nodded.

"Interesting," he mumbled. "So whatever this mystery Pokémon is, it doesn't seem to want a fair fight with a Fighting-type. Think about it… sucker-punched that Hariyama with some kinda psychic blast before he even saw it comin', then ran for cover as soon as somebody it couldn't ambush showed up? Definitely somethin' that can't stand up to a Fighting-type in a straight-up battle."

"Hmm… and the letter mentioned it taking a Dragon Pulse to the face without even flinching," Lopendra added. "Not many things can pull _that_ off."

"Steel-type. I'll bet ya a dozen donuts this thing's a Steel-type," Fatheade said, pacing away from the wall a bit. "Nothing else handles Dragon attacks too well, y'know? And Steel-types are weak against Fighting attacks, too. That's gotta be it."

The Squirtle frowned.

"I dunno… something tells me there's more than that going on here," he muttered, poring over the letter for a second time for any hints as to why his boss's explanation didn't seem quite right to him. "I mean… I guess this thing _could_ just be some undiscovered Steel-type, but…"

Fatheade patted him on the back.

"Hey, don't worry about it," he said. "We're all just pullin' guesses outta our asses here. Only one way to find out for sure, right?"

He reached up into a slot next to the mailboxes, pulling out a wooden sign that had collected dust from disuse. Carved across it, in rough letters, was the simple phrase "AWAY ON BUSINESS."

"Head up to this Polunk place 'n' try to track us down a mystery Pokémon," he said, pulling a cigar from seemingly out of nowhere and lighting it with a sudden spark of flame that emerged from the tip of his other hand. "One last real job before we shut this thing down and start lookin' for work somewhere else. Whaddya say? Varney, Lopendra, Ed… you in?"

Each of the other Pokémon nodded in response, then immediately ran (or crawled, or fluttered) off to pack their supplies for the trip. Fatheade laughed and puffed on his cigar, blowing a single huge smoke ring up to the ceiling before waddling down the hallway toward the front door with the "AWAY ON BUSINESS" sign in tow.


	2. The Past and Future, Reflected in Spoons

**DeStaav Pokémon Investigation Bureau**

**Chapter 2: The Past and Future, Reflected in Spoons**

Ed the Squirtle wandered down one of the cobblestone streets of the town that, for the past few days at least, he had called home. He had only just gotten used to the sights and sounds of these streets, and already it was almost time for him to go heading off into the unknown once again—though this time, at least, there was only a change in scenery involved rather than long-term memory loss.

That's what everyone in the town had told him, anyway: that he had probably suffered severe memory loss before stumbling into town one day, possibly caused by a head injury or exposure to too much psychic energy at once. Ed didn't remember which of these things was to blame, if indeed either of them was responsible for his current condition. The earliest thing he could remember at all was less than a week ago, when some of the locals had found him lying unconscious in the street during a storm and brought him to Fatheade. The Jigglypuff was unable to track down anyone in town who recognized the younger Pokémon or had even so much as heard of a Squirtle going missing, so he decided to take him in.

"Excuse me," a voice suddenly called out from a nearby alley. Ed turned slightly, glancing around for the source of the voice but only seeing a tattered old tent set up against the walls of the closest buildings, its entrance fluttering open occasionally in the wind.

"Yes, I'm talking to you, little Squirtle," the voice continued. The front flap of the tent briefly glowed with purplish energy and then rolled itself up, tying itself with a strap attached to the top of the makeshift structure. "You appear to be lost, confused… perhaps my abilities may be of assistance. Do come in."

Ed adjusted his glasses and leaned forward, attempting to get a closer look at the inhabitant of the tent but not having much luck. He could only see a little round table inside, its surface cluttered with all manner of assorted silverware. He hesitated for a moment, unsure what to do, before slowly walking over toward the entrance flap of the tent.

"Welcome!"

The voice from before had returned, this time much louder and more upbeat. The moment that the turtle crossed the threshold of the tent, a dozen lights in various colors seemed to suddenly spring to life inside, making its two inhabitants clearly visible. A tall chair behind the table spun around to reveal an Alakazam sitting cross-legged, his whiskers dangling down almost to his knees and two spoons hovering in the air at his sides. Sitting on a small stool in the far corner of the tent was a Gardevoir, bedecked in jewelry and hands clasped in her lap. The Alakazam raised one of his hands and waved at Ed as he finally stepped into the tent, causing the flap to unravel itself and fall shut behind him as soon as his shell was completely inside.

"Whoa," Ed mumbled, glancing around at the odd decorations of the tent. "What is this?"

"This, young Squirtle, is what we call a _tent,_" the Alakazam said, chuckling slightly. "From your reaction, I take it you have never seen one before?"

Ed shook his head.

"No, not the tent," he said, turning slightly and looking into the reddish and orange lights on one side of the tent. "I mean, I don't think I've _seen_ a tent before, but… I know what a tent _is… _I meant—"

"Ah," the Alakazam said, catching one of his spoons as it hovered past his hand. "I see. You were wondering what the purpose of this particular tent was. Why we have a tent decorated in such a way at the back of an alley, as this one currently is. Was that it?"

The Squirtle nodded.

"Well then," the Alakazam said, catching the other spoon in his right hand, "I suppose it is time for a proper introduction. No, I should say that an introduction is a bit overdue at this point."

He tapped one of his spoons against the table, and immediately dozens of others from the pile lying there floated upward and began to orbit around him. There were spoons of all shapes and sizes as well as a few forks mixed in with them; one utensil even resembled a bizarre combination of the two.

"I am the Great Foudin," he said, bowing slightly and causing each of the floating spoons to bend in a "bow" of their own which caused the lights of the room to reflect off of them in a way that showered the walls with strange patterns of color. "Teller of fortunes, seer of the future, decoder of dreams and reader of minds… I am one who has lived for many years, traveling the world and uncovering its secrets, unlocking the potential sealed away within me and aiding others in their own journeys… many things are within my power."

The Gardevoir turned toward him for a moment and nodded, unclasping her hands for the first time. The hovering spoons abruptly turned and bent themselves in her direction, then straightened once again before clattering to the table in a pile.

"And this, of course," Foudin continued, "Is my lovely assistant, Madame Sana."

She smiled slightly, nodded, and turned away, clasping her hands once again. Ed just blinked a few times and stared back and forth between the two psychic Pokémon, still a bit dazed by it all.

"I dunno," he mumbled, glancing around, "I mean… I know you guys have psychic powers and all, but… seeing the future? That just doesn't seem like it should be possible. I mean… what happens in the future depends on what we do _now_."

Foudin nodded, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Indeed," he said, "Quite bright for such a young one. No, I'm afraid you are correct in your assumption… the future is not something that is predetermined and unchanging, a straight and narrow path set out ahead of you before you have even begun. However…"

For the first time, he uncrossed his legs and hopped down out of his chair, taking a few steps around the table and coming closer to where his young visitor was standing.

"…it would not be entirely true to say that it cannot be seen," he continued. "Though I may not be able to see _the_ future, it is quite possible for me to glimpse the possibilities of _a_ future. Perhaps even that which is most likely, assuming that you carry on along the path which you currently walk."

Ed gulped. _That_ path would be the one into the north, toward Polunk Village and the mysterious attacker that supposedly haunted the nearby woods. He almost didn't want to think about how bad the future might turn out to be once he and the rest of Fatheade's team got there; he couldn't imagine how a handful of unevolved Pokémon, only two of which had any real battle experience, could hope to track down and capture something that was able to severely wound a Hariyama and knock a Lucario to the ground with only one or two attacks each.

"I hate to admit it," Foudin said, crouching down slightly to face the Squirtle, "But for an ordinary tourist, my seeing-the-future act would be nothing more than that… an act, put on in a way just convincing enough to, hmm… how shall I say this… swindle some money out of the metaphorical pockets of those with more than enough to share."

He stood back up again and returned to his chair, crossing his legs once again.

"But you, young Squirtle, are clearly no mere tourist," he said. His two spoons drifted out of his hands again, floating lazily and aimlessly about the room. "I noticed something different about you the moment you entered this tent. During each brief moment of eye contact between us, I have been peering into your memories… only to find them completely blank aside from the past six days."

The spoons suddenly snapped back to attention, zooming across the room as if thrown and landing in the palms of the Alakazam's hands.

"You're an unusual one indeed," he continued. "Neither you nor I can see more than the tiniest glimpse into your past… which only makes me more curious to see what your future holds."

Ed paused, thinking for a moment of slowly backing out of the tent and then running… but before he could take more than a single step back, curiosity got the best of him. What _was_ Polunk going to be like? Could the Great Foudin's ability to see into the future provide some clues to help the investigation, or even identify the attacker ahead of time so they knew what to look for?

He stepped up to the table and nodded, motioning for the Alakazam to proceed. Foudin nodded back and then shifted position slightly, resting his arms on the arms of his chair in such a way that the cupped ends of his spoons pointed upward. He closed his eyes as a strange light surrounded both spoons before slowly spreading out across his entire body, dulling into a pale glow as it went. Once this aura of psychic energy had fully surrounded his body and faded out to the point where it was nearly invisible, Foudin suddenly opened his eyes, which were now glowing with a pale purplish-blue light.

For a moment, Ed was frozen in place as time seemed to slow to a crawl around him. His eyes were locked on the Alakazam's, though the glow of the psychic Pokémon's own eyes was so bright that he would have blinked if he had been able to. After what seemed like several minutes had passed, everything returned to its usual speed once again, and the light coming from Foudin's eyes abruptly flickered away. He gasped and lurched back against the chair, both spoons slipping out of his grip and clattering to the floor.

"What is it?", the Squirtle asked, puzzled by the sudden change. "What'd you see?"

"I… I cannot say for sure," Foudin muttered, pausing for a few moments to take a deep breath. He leaned forward and physically picked up the fallen spoons, rather than telekinetically lifting them as he had always done before. "What I saw was… difficult to put into words..."

He shivered slightly and then turned toward his assistant, seemingly communicating something to her through little more than the look on his face. She nodded in response, then stood up and walked over to the table, stopping just short of Foudin's chair.

"What Foudin saw is recorded in these spoons," she said, gently plucking the two utensils out of the Alakazam's hands. "However… his powers are not suited for extracting that stored energy or displaying it in a form that those without psychic powers of their own can understand."

She linked the two spoons together, one's cup fitting inside the other, with their handles facing outward in opposite directions. They became surrounded by an aura of pale purplish energy and slowly began to rotate in midair, eventually forming a sphere of psychic energy around them which grew gradually larger and larger as the seconds passed by. In only a minute, the sphere had grown large enough that Madame Sana was entirely surrounded by it; shortly afterward, its purplish color intensified so that the outline of her form could barely be seen through it.

"Watch closely, young Squirtle."

Within the sphere, the Gardevoir's shadow suddenly crept out in all directions, shaping itself into a vague approximation of the images of a possible future that Foudin had observed. Ed could do nothing but stare as bizarre shapes and movements flashed before his eyes, a few of them vaguely recognizable as being the shapes of the investigation team but most being unknown to him. Many trees appeared, but one seemed different than the others—a bare, leafless tree, its branches splitting off just above ground level and twisting upward toward an open sky at sharp angles. A Jigglypuff wearing a hat appeared, but its movements were jerky and unnatural, very much unlike the usual exaggerated swagger that Fatheade was known for. A Zubat and a Venipede—which he assumed had to be Varney and Lopendra—were struck down by a series of energy beams that came raining down upon them from the sky, crashing to the ground and not moving afterward. A strange creature that he did not recognize appeared briefly, some sort of tentacle-like appendages waving behind it as it ran between a series of bushes and tall grass patches; Ed focused in on this shape and tried to figure out its identity, but it appeared to be trying very hard to avoid detection, and before he could even determine what sort of body shape the creature had it was long gone. Suddenly, the shadows twisted into dozens of bizarre shapes looming in, a few looking like Pokémon he knew of but most of them unfamiliar to the young Squirtle—and none of them matching what little he had seen of the tentacled creature bouncing along through the forest seconds before. Finally, the shadow-formed visions began to vanish along with the psychic sphere itself, but not before shaping themselves into a lone Wartortle, standing in the middle of a barren field and staring off into the distance.

Ed took a step backward and nearly bumped into an old wooden shelf; he only just realized that he had in fact been slowly backing away from the shadowy images the entire time. Glancing back for a moment and then embarrassedly scratching his head, he quickly scurried back to the place where he had been standing before.

"Wh… what the heck _was _all that!?"

Madame Sana let out a brief chuckle, and then sighed.

"That is for you to find out," she said, returning Foudin's spoons to him now that they had disconnected and the energy surrounding them had completely dissipated. "Perhaps now that you have seen what may come, things could turn out differently."

Ed sighed, then nodded slightly.

"Yeah… I guess so," he mumbled. "I dunno… I mean, I couldn't even figure out what I was watching half the time…"

Sana smiled softly.

"Visions of a potential future are rarely clear," she said, walking over to the Squirtle and patting him lightly on the shell with one hand. "What is on the horizon appears hazy when you are still miles away. I'm sure you will understand more of the things you have seen with time."

Ed nodded. He didn't understand psychic visions and images made of shadows, but something as simple as not being able to see things that were far away made sense to him. If anything, this particular comparison may have made more sense to him than it would for most, as without his glasses he could hardly see ten feet in front of him.

"Um… thank you," the Squirtle said, nodding slightly to each of the two Psychic-types. "I… I think I really should get going pretty soon, though. I was supposed to be buying some supplies for the trip up north..."

"Ah," Foudin said, finally seeming to regain a bit of the upbeat, goofy tone of voice that he had shown when Ed had first arrived. "In that case, you really should hurry. Food is one of those few things that one truly cannot live without, after all!"

Ed nodded again, then pushed the tent's flap out of the way and took off running down the alley, swerving around the nearest corner and heading toward the market as fast as his stubby little turtle feet could carry him. Once the Squirtle was well outside hearing range, Sana turned toward Foudin, her expression shifting to a worried look.

"It wasn't only his future you foresaw," she said, walking over to Foudin and placing one of her hands on his shoulder. "I saw all of what the psychic vibrations in the spoons had recorded. His future, Fatheade's, yours… and even my own."

"Yes," Foudin said, eyes narrowing slightly. He let one spoon hover in the air alongside his chair as he reached up with the now-empty hand to rub his forehead. "There is far more going on here than a simple string of assaults upon travelers in the northern lands… some unknown force is building power with each day that passes, and the day when this force may grow so strong as to overthrow the very balance of the world is fast approaching."

Sana sighed, leaning on the tall backboard of Foudin's chair.

"Foudin… I'm sorry," she said, "I'm afraid I cannot stay so close any longer. If what I saw of my own future comes to pass, then—"

"You may become a threat to all those around you," the Alakazam finished, as if reading her mind (which, in all likelihood, he was.)

He stood and let his second spoon drift alongside the first, hovering behind him in midair as he drew closer to his assistant and hugged her as tightly as his frail old arms could manage. She blushed slightly and pulled away.

"I know," he said, removing his arms from her waist and calling his spoons back to his hands with a quick gesture. "I have seen what you may become. What you _will_ become, if things do not deviate from their current path. But I do not believe that putting you under quarantine before any signs of such a transformation even begin will make _either_ of us any safer."

He walked back to his chair and sat down, staring intently at the pile of assorted spoons on the table in front of him. After a few moments of silence, he spoke up once again.

"What we must do now is remain vigilant," he said, "Watching the world intently for any signs of this chaos that encroaches upon it. And, as you told the boy… perhaps now that we have seen what may come, things could turn out differently."


	3. Bad Dudes

**DeStaav Pokémon Investigation Bureau**

**Chapter 3: Bad Dudes**

"Okay," Fatheade called out, standing up on top of the oversized backpack that he had stuffed with supplies, "Everyone just about ready to get goin'?"

Ed nodded, adjusting the strap on his own (somewhat smaller) backpack so that the weight settled mostly on his shell. He glanced around to his sides, where Lopendra and Varney were perched; the Venipede had an annoyed look on her face, no doubt caused by the fact that she had to carry her own share of the supplies and thus wouldn't be able to go quite as fast as she would like. Varney, on the other hand, seemed relieved that Fatheade had not delegated too much of the weight to his tiny backpack, which was designed so as to not get in the way of his wings in mid-flight. Fatheade hopped down from his perch atop his own massive backpack and then lifted it with a grunt before slipping it on and tightening the straps so that they would grip on to his round, rubbery body; unlike Varney, he did not have a specially-made backpack, but he seemed determined that this fact wouldn't slow him down any. The Jigglypuff adjusted his straps one more time, then walked past the rest of the group, leading the way toward the door.

"Packs're pretty damn heavy, huh?", he said, turning toward Ed as he passed. The Squirtle just nodded. "Yeah… we really oughta hire some big galoot to carry most'a the weight next time. I mean, if this ain't our last job and there _is_ a next time, y'know what I mean?"

Lopendra grumbled a bit; she just knew that she'd be the one burdened with that sort of task if she stuck with the investigation team long enough to grow into a full-sized Scolipede. Or maybe Ed would be the one to carry the load, once he grew into a Blastoise—but of course, she was almost certainly older than the little turtle, so the chances of his final evolution coming around before hers were slim to none. Ed, on the other hand, shivered slightly at his boss's words; he hadn't mentioned his visions of the future that could be waiting for them, but he could only imagine an early grave (rather than retirement) upon hearing Fatheade bring up the possibility that there wouldn't be a "next time."

"So what's it like up north, huh?" Varney asked, fluttering over Fatheade's head as the group walked down the street outside, toward the edge of town. "Gonna be kinda cold up there, right?"

"Damn right it's gonna be cold," he replied, "Polunk's far enough north that they might be gettin' their first snow soon. If we manage to get up there 'n' back within a month we should be able to dodge the winter storms, but even that's gonna be cuttin' it pretty close."

"Heh," Varney chuckled nervously, "Good thing I packed a scarf or three then, huh?"

Ed turned to Lopendra for a second, noticing that she had a particularly annoyed look on her face at that moment.

"So, uh… what're you gonna do if it gets cold?", he asked. "I mean, bugs don't handle cold weather too well, right?"

"Not any worse than turtles," she said. "I'll be fine. If it gets too cold, I… I'll just stay inside."

Varney laughed.

"Yeah, 'cuz you don't want anybody to see ya wearin' your _sweater!_"

Lopendra tilted her head in the bat's direction and growled.

"If it wasn't so close to winter, I wouldn't have even _packed_ that piece of trash!"

"Whoa," Ed said, stepping away from her a bit. "What's so bad about this sweater?"

"Oh, it's nothing much, I just—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Varney swooped in low between the two of them and interrupted.

"She just doesn't wanna wear it 'cuz it's a gift from an old _boyfriend! _Bwahahaha!"

"That runty little Weedle was _not_ my boyfriend!", she snapped, whipping her tail-prongs upward so that they just narrowly missed Varney's dangling feet. "Come on. You wouldn't want to wear a sweater made out of ratty old Weedle silk either… it's not even very warm or anything."

"Hey, nothing wrong with Weedle silk if that's the best you can get," Varney said, flapping a bit harder to make sure he stayed a bit further outside of the hot-tempered Venipede's reach this time. "I mean, it's not Wurmple quality or anything, but it ain't too bad either. Nice lightweight stuff."

Ed began to zone out a bit, focusing more on his surroundings than on the conversation rattling back and forth between the two Poison-types. The group had passed beyond the central business district of their town minutes ago and were now headed through the residential areas, where various Pokémon could be seen going about their daily lives all around them. He spotted a Machop carrying a log out into the middle of his front yard and then splitting it up into smaller pieces with a series of Karate Chops, earning a round of enthusiastic applause from a young Tyrogue and Elekid who were standing on the other side of the fence watching at the time. In front of another house there was a Phanpy watering her garden, siphoning up part of a nearby pond with her trunk and then spraying it over the flowers, berry bushes, and vegetables that had sprouted up in patches here and there. Another yard was so overgrown that the house in its center could barely be seen from the road, though he figured that the Tangela family that he occasionally spotted peeking out at the group of investigators as they passed probably preferred it that way.

Before long, Fatheade and his team had reached the outskirts of town, passing by the sign announcing its boundaries to travelers and heading off into the wilderness. Between here and Polunk there was only one other tiny village, its inhabitants only numbering in the twenties at the most; once they passed that last rest-stop along the way, the path ahead of them would be nothing but a dirt road crossing wide open grassy fields, rising up over rolling hills, and weaving through dense, tangled forests. A flock of Taillows led by a large Swellow flew overhead, heading off to the south; they were most likely anticipating the oncoming winter weather and decided to start their migration early this year. Before long, the familiar town vanished into the distance, and Ed could see nothing but miles of grassy plains and low hills in every direction.

"So, uh," the Squirtle spoke up after nearly an hour of quiet walking, "How far away is this village we're going to stop in, anyway?"

Fatheade shrugged slightly.

"Not too sure," he said, tugging on one of his backpack straps again to make sure it was still holding on as tightly as he wanted it. "Probably got at least a couple days' walk ahead of us before we make it up there, though. We're gonna have to camp out somewhere these first two nights."

* * *

Just as Fatheade had said, one day of walking wasn't enough to even get them within sight of the nearest village—as the last shreds of sunlight faded away and the oranges, reds, and pinks of the sunset gave way to dark blue and then black, the group found themselves standing in an open field with no obvious shelter anywhere in sight. Fatheade unbuckled the straps holding it in place and sat his heavy backpack on the ground behind him with a _thud_, then turned and began digging around in it for supplies. Varney quickly volunteered for the first guard shift, not wanting to be stuck in a tent during the time that seemed like prime "staying awake" hours for a nocturnal creature like himself. Lopendra snatched up the second shift of guard duty almost immediately afterward, agreeing that she would take over an hour or two before sunrise and keep it up until the group was ready to pack up camp, allowing Varney to get at least a good three or four hours of sleep in before he had to get up and go again. With that taken care of by the two night-owls, Fatheade and Ed went ahead and started setting up the tent, a beat-up old canvas shelter that was more than large enough for all four of them.

"Wow," Ed mumbled, staring into the spacious inside of the tent through the open flap. "This thing's _huge!_ Didn't you have a smaller tent you could bring?"

"Nah," Fatheade said, shrugging. "Besides… it might seem too damn big now, but just wait 'til Lopendra's a Whirlipede 'n' you've grown up into a Wartortle. You're gonna be glad I was smart enough to bring this big ol' tent along then."

Ed paused for a moment, blinked, and then went back to his job of making sure the tent was staked down securely. As he tied the rope around the wooden stake and pushed it into the ground with a series of hard stomps, he wondered what it might be like to evolve. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't really figure out just how large a Wartortle would be in comparison to his current size. He knew what one looked like, sure—he had seen pictures of them before, at least—but for some reason he just had no concept of their size. After thinking it over (and pounding in a couple more tent stakes) he eventually dropped that train of thought, assuming that the relative size of other Pokémon was just another thing that had slipped out of his memory along with everything else about his past.

Once the tent was set up, Fatheade unpacked some other supplies and got to work building a fire to cook a meal for the group. As it turned out, though, the soup he was cooking ended up being for himself and Ed only—Varney had little interest in that sort of food and flitted off across the plains to find some sleeping Pokémon to drain a bit of blood from, while Lopendra was content to munch on some fruit and dried meat that she had brought along in her own backpack. Before long, Varney had returned to the campsite with a fully belly and the three who had stayed behind had finished off their own meals as well. As the last coals of the fire began to flicker and fade away, Ed soaked the pit with a spray of bubbles and then prodded the gooey ash left behind with a stick to make sure it was safely extinguished. With that one last thing settled, Varney took off and began to slowly circle the campsite for his guard shift while the others tucked themselves in for a much-needed night's sleep.

* * *

Several hours later, Ed found himself awakened by an odd rustling sound outside. Lying perfectly still and silent in his sleeping bag, he listened to the sound for a few seconds before recognizing it—someone was rooting through Fatheade's backpack, which was sitting outside and protected only by a tarp to keep the rain off of it. At first, he assumed that this was only Varney searching through it for a late-night snack or checking to make sure nothing had been left out, but as he gradually snapped out of his half-asleep state he realized that a Zubat would have a hard time doing something like that without help—and that Fatheade and Lopendra were both still asleep inside the tent, so whoever was out there wasn't one of their group at all. Slipping out of his sleeping bag and putting on his glasses as quietly as possible, he crept over to the other end of the tent and untied the flaps, opening them just enough so that he could peek outside.

Fatheade's backpack had been yanked several feet away from the tent and opened up, with most of its contents strewn across the ground. At first, Ed couldn't locate the trespassers in the campsite who had done this, but then a brief movement next to the backpack caught his eye—a hand seemed to reach up out of the ground. As his eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight outside, he finally figured out what was going on: the arm was not coming out of the ground at all, but out of one of the large, round stones that they had been using as seats around the campfire earlier. They weren't just any old rocks—they were Geodudes.

An older, more experienced Pokémon would have waited and watched the trespassers a little longer, figuring out how many of them there were and what each of them was up to before engaging them. Ed, being neither old nor experienced, threw the flaps of the tent open and ran outside, ducking into his shell at the last moment before colliding with the nearest Geodude. The living rock barely saw the attack coming, turning slightly just in time to be smacked square in the face…

…and not even flinch. Ed, dazed from the force of his own attack's impact, popped his head and limbs back out of his shell just in time to notice that the Geodude he had tackled was winding up for a punch. He had no time to dodge, taking the brunt of the punch right across his cheek and being sent spinning backward into one of the ropes supporting the tent. Though stunned for a moment, he recovered quickly enough to avoid a second punch, ducking his head into his shell so that the Geodude's fist swished harmless past him and punched a hole into the side of the tent instead.

And then, rather than attacking again, the Geodude paused and stared at the hole his punch had made, grunting and pulling back a bit but apparently unable to yank himself free. Or, at least, unable to break free without losing his balance—the only thing keeping him from tumbling over backward now was his other arm, palm-down against the ground to support his weight.

_"He's stuck!"_

Ed took this chance to finally launch a counterattack, taking a deep breath and then unleashing a spray of bubbles which clung to the rocky thug's body. The rock Pokémon shuddered as these bubbles rapidly popped, shaking his outer shell with a series of tiny bursts of water-elemental power.

Ed let out a sigh of relief as the Geodude's eyes slipped shut and he fell to the ground with a heavy _thud_, no longer able to balance his weight on his free hand like he had been doing before. A whooshing sound and the wind that accompanied it passing over his head (followed by a thud and a yelp from inside the tent behind him) alerted him to the fact that he had only managed to knock _one_ Geodude out of the fight. A second Geodude, sitting on the ground a few feet past where the campfire had been, hefted another stone from the ground and gripped it tightly, frowning at the Squirtle.

"Lucky li'l bastard!", he blurted out, hopping forward and raising the rock in his hand. "But the next one ain't gonna miss, kid!"

The Geodude's arm reared back and then launched the fist-sized rock in Ed's direction, sending it spiraling toward the Squirtle's shelled chest too quickly for him to have any chance of dodging. Just when Ed was sure he was about to get nailed with an even bigger rock than the one that had gone sailing over his head before, his field of vision was suddenly filled with a pale whitish-pink.

Fatheade had stepped in, putting himself between Ed and the incoming rock and inflating his body to act as a shield for the young Squirtle. The rock slammed into Fatheade's inflated chest, pushing him back onto Ed and shoving him into the tent behind them. After a few moments of being shoved backward, however, Fatheade's rubbery skin snapped back and bounced the rock away, causing it to tumble harmlessly to the ground. When he deflated back to his normal size and helped Ed up, there wasn't even a scratch on him.

"What the hell!?", the rock-throwing Geodude yelled, eyes widening.

"'What the hell' is right," Fatheade said, turning back to the Geodude and cracking the knuckles that he apparently had somewhere inside his little flipper-like hands. "What the hell are you punks doin' scroungin' around in our campsite at three in the goddamn morning!?"

With Fatheade's appearance on the scene, the full group of Geodudes decided to reveal themselves. Including the defeated one lying on the ground right outside the tent, there were five in all—one had Varney pinned to the ground, covering his mouth with one hand, and two more had dragged Varney and Lopendra's smaller backpacks away from the camp and were in the process of searching through them when the Jigglypuff's angry voice had caught their attention. The two searching through the backpacks immediately dropped what they were doing and hopped forward to prepare for battle; the one who was holding Varney down took a few glances back and forth between his captive and Fatheade, eventually releasing his grip and hopping forward to join the others. Apparently he had decided that the bat who had been on guard duty when they arrived was no longer worth worrying about now that the others had become alerted to their presence.

"Four against two, huh?", Fatheade mumbled, glancing back at the tent for a moment. "Guess Lopendra's a heavier sleeper than I thought. But eh, that's no problem… we ain't gonna need her help with a buncha punks like you anyway."

As the Geodudes clenched their hands into fists or pulled more rocks to throw out of the ground around them, Fatheade just stood back and waited. The first of the living rocks to attack charged forward, propelling himself along the ground using his hands almost like feet and then leaping to throw a punch in the Jigglypuff's direction. Before he could get close, Fatheade slammed one fist into the ground and the grass below the Geodude suddenly grew at a rapid pace, tangling itself around the rock Pokémon's arms and slamming him to the ground face-first. He grunted in pain, but remained conscious; by the time the grass had receded from his arms and he was able to reopen his eyes, however, Fatheade had bounced past him and moved in closer to the other three Geodudes.

Meanwhile, Ed focused in on one of the Geodudes who was pitching a series of rocks at him; so far they had all missed, but they were getting closer each time. He breathed in and began to build up a supply of water, attempting the attack he had been trying to learn for the past few days but had not quite mastered. When he finally let loose, it was a disaster—though at least recognizable as a Water Gun attack this time, it was not a focused stream directed toward the Geodude but a random spray that went all over the place, drenching the ground in front of him but only lightly sprinkling his target. Laughing a bit and shrugging it off like it was nothing, the Geodude hefted another small rock and let it fly, beaning Ed square in the face and sending him toppling backward onto his shell.

The apparent leader of the Geodudes, one that was slightly larger than the others, took a swing at Fatheade but only succeeded in punching the ground when the Jigglypuff hopped out of the way. Fatheade countered by lunging at him from behind and coming down on his head with a powerful Body Slam, pounding the Geodude a couple inches into the soil beneath him with the force of the impact. The Geodude quickly recovered, pulling himself free of the dirt and scowling.

"You ain't gonna put me down that easy," he snarled, raising both fists high into the air overhead and then slamming them into the ground. "Take this!"

Fatheade jumped back, pausing for a moment as nothing seemed to happen. Then, suddenly, the ground beneath his feet shook—a series of small shockwaves rocked the area around him, causing clumps of dirt and grass to scatter and knocking him back and forth. After managing to stand through five such shockwaves, Fatheade was bowled over by the sixth that went off right in front of him and went rolling backward for several feet, his hat falling off of his head in the process. The Geodude laughed, hopping over to the fallen hat and taking a look at it before putting it—backwards—onto his own head.

"Nice hat," he chuckled, taking another hop toward the Jigglypuff. "Gonna have to get that name on the front changed, but hey, once we sell all the junk we're gonna snatch from you guys, payin' for that'll be no problem."

Fatheade hopped to his feet, brushing some dirt out of his hair (which was cut short and slightly spiky, rather than the curly, dangling poof of hair that most Jigglypuffs had) and preparing for another attack. He was a bit scuffed-up now, but still in good shape.

"If that last move was the best ya got," he said, frowning at the sight of his prized hat on the Geodude's head, "Then ya better just give up now."

The Geodude grinned.

"Oh no, that ain't all," he laughed, raising his fists overhead once again. "That was just Magnitude 6. You mighta been able to handle that one, but wait'll you see Magnitude _8!_"

Just like the last time, the rock's heavy fists smashed into the ground in front of him. This time, the attack came on immediately—too fast for Fatheade to even try to dodge. The explosions of earth-elemental energy rippled through the ground around him, battering Fatheade back and forth as they came up at all angles around him. The eighth and final blast came not from in front of him this time but from behind, launching him forward—right into the path of the Geodude's fist, which smashed into his face and sent him tumbling backward onto the ground. For a few seconds, Fatheade was perfectly still; the Geodude laughed and turned to see how the rest of the battle was going. He watched as Ed the Squirtle (now with a black eye and bloody nose) exchanged blows with one of the two Geodudes that remained conscious; the other was lying on the ground and breathing heavily, weakened too badly by Fatheade's Grass Knot attack to fight even though he wasn't actually knocked out.

"I said it before and now I'm gonna say it again," Fatheade's voice suddenly called out from behind him, causing the stunned Geodude to spin back around to face him. "If that's the best ya got, I'm tellin' ya to just give up now."

Though bruised and scraped in a few places, Fatheade seemed to have taken the attack remarkably well. The Geodude hadn't expected this level of endurance from something that looked like an overgrown cream puff; he was sure that Magnitude 8 would be too much for the Jigglypuff to handle. But there he was, standing there with his fists held out in front of him in a boxing stance as if the fight had only just started.

"Oh yeah!?", the Geodude yelled, raising his fists up for a third time, "Well, how 'bout we see if you're still talking so big after _this_ one—Magnitude _10!_"

Fatheade just rolled his eyes and clapped his hands together once. There was a brief flash of pale blue light which reflected off of the Geodude's rocky body for a moment before quickly fading away. The Geodude proceeded with his attack as though nothing had happened, slamming his fists into the ground as hard as he could… and absolutely nothing happened. For a moment, he just stood still, fists still firmly planted in the dirt in front of him, a stunned look forming on his face. Then, finally, he managed to blurt out one word.

"…Huh?"

Fatheade smirked and snatched his hat from the Geodude's head before he could react, dusting it off for a second and returning it to its rightful place. He then pulled back one of his fists and took a swing, smacking the Geodude right between the eyes. For a few moments, a glow of yellowish-orange energy surrounded the rock Pokémon's body; this energy then separated into smaller spheres and went spiraling backward into Fatheade's body, surrounding him with the same orangey glow for a second before vanishing. As soon as the glow faded, the Geodude was sent flying backward, flipping end-over-end several times before finally coming to a stop. He tried to stand again, but after a few wobbly seconds he slumped back to the ground and fell unconscious.

Around the same time, Ed's battle with the other Geodude was also coming to an end. The bruised and bleeding Squirtle, standing on all fours, opened his mouth wide and blasted a powerful stream of water straight into his opponent's face right as the Geodude got within punching range, sending him flying backward through the air and then landing with a _splat_ in one of the several muddy spots that had developed throughout the fight. Just like the other Geodude who had been unfortunate enough to get hit with one of Ed's water attacks earlier, he immediately passed out.

"Looks like ya finally got the hang of it," Fatheade said, walking over to where Ed was standing and patting him on the back. "Not too bad for your first fight. Still need some practice, that's for sure… but not too bad."

Ed breathed a sigh of relief, plopping himself down belly-first on the ground and letting the front half of his shell sink into the surface of the mud that his own water had created. Fatheade snickered a bit, then walked over to check on Varney.

"Hey," he said, nudging the fallen Zubat, "How 'bout you get to bed early today. I'll get Lopendra out here to take over for ya."

At the sound of Fatheade's voice, Varney looked up (though it was a bit pointless due to his lack of eyes) and shook his head.

"Nah, don't worry about it! I'm fine!"

Varney hopped up onto his tiny feet and flapped his wings, at first appearing to be in pretty good shape. When he tried to take flight, however, he quickly found that he wasn't as well off as he thought; his wings felt heavy, and after a few seconds of struggling with maintaining his position a few feet off the ground, he quickly came back down again.

"…okay… maybe not," he grumbled, pulling himself along the ground toward the tent using his wings as a second pair of legs. "I mean, I guess I _did_ have a Geodude sit on me for a while and all…"

Fatheade nodded and then walked over to pick up the backpacks that the Geodudes had opened up. Ed's pack, which contained most of the food, had fortunately been ignored; only his, Lopendra's, and Varney's had been tampered with. As the young Squirtle drifted off to sleep in the patch of mud he had curled up in and Lopendra came skittering out of the tent to begin her shift of guard duty almost an hour early, Fatheade went about the annoying (but necessary) task of re-packing all of their supplies… and getting out some rope to tie up the gang of Geodudes so that there was no risk of them waking up and trying again later.


	4. Ririnde Valley

**DeStaav Pokémon Investigation Bureau**

**Chapter 4: Ririnde Valley**

By the time all four members of the traveling group were up and moving the next morning, the sun was high overhead. This, of course, meant that it really wasn't "morning" at all. Surprising absolutely no one after how worn-out he had gotten in the fight the night before, Ed was the last one to wake up; what _had_ been unexpected was just how heavy a sleeper the young Squirtle became when he was in such rough shape. Fatheade had been able to not only move him out of the mud where he had passed out but clean and bandage his wounds, all without getting so much as a restless twitch or a half-asleep mumble out of him. If he hadn't clearly been breathing (and snoring) at the time, someone might have worried that he was dead.

While the investigation team shared a late breakfast of pastries and assorted fruit, the five Geodude bandits who had assaulted them the night before struggled against the ropes that held them, stomachs groaning as they watched every bite. Though the diet of a Geodude generally included more small rocks and soil than anything else, none of them had eaten so much as a light snack since they snuck into the camp, so even foods that were worthless to them in terms of nutritional value were looking pretty good right now.

"Aw, c'mon!", one of the group grumbled, trying to get a hand free only to find that it was lashed together with two other rocky hands. "Just lemme have one bite o' that Watmel, 'n' maybe a couple little pebbles or somethin'!"

Fatheade ignored this plea just like he had done with every other so far, taking a big bite out of the section of pink-and-green fruit in his hand without even so much as acknowledging the Geodudes' existence. Ed glanced nervously at the tangled-up pile of rock Pokémon and sturdy ropes, then returned his attention to his own chunk of fruit, which he had devoured so rapidly that only a few tiny bits of edible fruit clung to the rind.

"Hey," Lopendra said, glancing up at him, "You planning on eating the outside?"

"Wait… you can eat that part?"

The Venipede snickered.

"Well, I don't know if _you_ can," she said, pointing one of her antennae to a partially-eaten chunk of Watmel rind lying on the ground in front of her, "But it tastes pretty good to me. So if you're not going to finish yours off, I'll take it."

Ed blinked and then nodded, passing the rind on to the bug with the seemingly-bottomless stomach as soon as he had cleaned off the last shreds of soft fruit. She immediately lunged at the rind and started gnawing away, causing what was left of the fruit to disappear so fast that Ed wondered if she had even tasted it.

Before long, everyone had finished their meal and was just about ready to get going again. After packing up the tent and all of their supplies, Fatheade finally agreed to release the Geodudes, untying them one-by-one while Ed, Lopendra, and Varney all stood (or hovered a few feet above the ground, in Varney's case) at the ready in case any of them were dumb enough to try picking a fight in their worn-out and hungry state. Thankfully, none of them did; most were too focused on digging up any rock they could find just to have _something_ in their bellies to even turn and watch as the group who had foiled their attempted robbery walked away down the road into the north. Only the leader of the gang even seemed to notice as Fatheade, Ed, Lopendra, and Varney left them behind and vanished off into the distance.

* * *

The rest of that day's trip, and the night that followed, were almost completely uneventful. For miles at a time, the group didn't even get a clear look at another Pokémon, only being clued in to their presence by the occasional rustling sound or brief swaying of tall grass that gave away their locations. Thankfully, no attackers came in the night this time; the only interruptions to anyone's sleep came in the form of the high-pitched, vibrating songs of Kricketots and Kricketunes off in the distance. Even these slowed and eventually stopped as the night wore on into the dark, night-like hours of the early morning, giving way to a peaceful silence that made it difficult for even Lopendra, at the edge of the road on guard duty, to stay awake.

After another good breakfast and another quick re-packing of supplies, the group once again headed off on their way, this time crossing over a series of rolling hills rather than the seemingly-endless flat, grassy plains that they had spent the previous days walking through. Before long, the group reached one large hill that marked the edge of a valley that Fatheade had pointed out to them that morning before leaving—the location of the last village they would come across before they began their journey far into the northern wilderness that stretched out over the dozens of miles between there and Polunk.

"Well," Fatheade said, reaching the highest point of the hill and raising one hand up to his face to block out the sun as he looked out into the valley before him, "Looks like we've made it this far right on time. This right here is Ririnde Valley."

"So this's that other village you mentioned, huh?", Varney asked, swooping overhead several times before rising high into the air to get a better impression of the landscape. "I don't see any houses or anything down there…"

"Ain't any houses down there," Fatheade said, shrugging. "Whole town's a buncha Fire-types. Everybody livin' inside a big wooden box wouldn't be the safest thing."

He took a few steps forward and then pointed at a hole in the hillside below which seemed to have a small plume of smoke rising up out of it. Ed squinted and noticed that there was not only one of these holes, but at least a dozen scattered across the other side of the very hill they were standing on. Varney, only being able to go by what his echolocation told him about the valley (and its distinct lack of any house-shaped structures), didn't notice any of this.

"They live underground here, y'see," Fatheade continued, "See those holes with the smoke comin' up from 'em? Every last one of 'em… that's where somebody down inside's got a fire goin'."

For a moment, he glanced up and noted the position of the sun in the sky, then continued.

"And right about now, that smoke is probably everybody in town gettin' some food ready for lunch."

After a few more moments waiting at the top of the hill and looking out over the scenery, the group finally began to head down into the valley. As Fatheade had suggested, it was right around lunchtime for the tiny hillside town—the further down the four Pokémon walked, the more they could smell all kinds of foods in the process of being cooked. Having not stopped for lunch yet themselves, this led to more than a few stomach growls from the four.

"So," Varney spoke up, swooping down closer to Fatheade, "Whaddya think they're gonna have to eat around here?"

The Jigglypuff shrugged.

"Ririnde's pretty much just one big Cyndaquil 'n' Quilava clan," he said, scratching his head for a second and adjusting his hat. "They'll eat just about anything, so you guys should all be able to find somethin' for lunch down here."

With that, Varney and Lopendra both sped up their descent into the valley—the Zubat flapping his wings rapidly to pick up speed, and the Venipede just charging headlong down the hills, going just about as fast as she could without curling up into a ball and just rolling down the hillside (and probably breaking half of what was in her pack in the process.) Ed tried to keep up with them for a second, but quickly ended up out of breath and slowed his pace again, walking just ahead of Fatheade as the two slower Pokémon gradually made their way down the grassy slopes. Along the way, they passed not just the exhaust holes venting smoke but several much larger entrance holes, most of them easily wide enough for two Squirtles to enter at once without even bumping into each other. Further down the hill, they passed by a small stone structure providing shelter for a vertical hole in the ground; Ed began to walk over to check it out, but Fatheade stopped him.

"That's just a latrine, kid," he said, grabbing the Squirtle by the shell and turning him away from the outdoor toilet. "Nothin' to see here."

Before long, they had all come close to the bottom of the valley, where a slow-moving river wound its way through the landscape and trees bearing a variety of different fruits hung over its banks. Varney and Lopendra had stopped to rest under an Oran tree, setting their packs aside as they waited for the slower members of their group to catch up; as they finally approached, the Zubat detached himself from the branch he had been hanging from and fluttered down to meet them.

"When's lunch?"

"Better question," Lopendra butted in, "_Where's_ lunch?"

"Well," Fatheade said, setting down his backpack, "I've got some old friends around these parts. Figured we'd just drop by their place while we're here and grab a bite to eat."

* * *

Within a few minutes, the group had entered one of the larger entrance holes in the hillside, one which Fatheade had specifically pointed out as the home of his friends. The locals hardly seemed friendly toward _him,_ however—almost as soon as he passed from the narrow entrance hall into the larger room beyond it, two Quilavas leaped out and blocked his path. Each one wore a helmet that was specially designed with an opening to allow their head flames to project outward, along with a bit of additional armor on their upper bodies. Both their head and tail flames were raging, as if they were ready for a fight at the very sight of the Jigglypuff.

"Your kind are not welcome here," the guard on the left snarled, taking a step closer to Fatheade and shifting his body into a fighting stance. "I'd suggest you leave."

The other guard, a female, turned to her companion for a moment but then quickly focused her attention on the (apparently unwelcome) visitor, as if not wanting to let him out of her sight for even a moment.

"Careful," she muttered, "Don't get so close to him."

The male backed away a bit, keeping his eyes on Fatheade the whole time. After just staring at them for a few seconds with a stunned look on his face, the Jigglypuff frowned and finally stepped forward.

"What the hell's goin' on here!?", he yelled, waving his stubby arms around as he approached the two guards. "Whaddya mean _my kind_ ain't welcome here!?"

The two Quilavas crouched down and snarled, lowering their heads so that any incoming attacks would hit the armored parts of their bodies while also preparing to counterattack. Fatheade stopped walking toward them, but definitely didn't quiet down.

"After all I've done for Ririnde Valley, _this_ crap is the thanks I get!? Ya gotta be kiddin' me… it's only been a decade! Don't tell me ya forgot the name Fatheade DeStaav _that_ fast!"

For a moment, the Quilavas paused, an odd look of realization appearing on their faces. The female turned to the male and whispered something to him, who responded in another whisper. Slowly, the male guard backed away into the next room, not taking his eyes off of Fatheade until the other guard had shifted her position to effectively block the hallway. As the other guard took off running further into the network of burrows, the one remaining guard growled and flared her tail-flame dangerously, clearly warning Fatheade and his team (though the pair of Quilava guards hadn't seemed to acknowledge the rest of the group's existence) not to take a single step without even saying a word.

A few minutes passed with no change in the situation. Varney, tired of flapping his wings to hover in place for so long, latched onto a crevice in the wall to rest for a bit; Lopendra and Ed briefly whispered back and forth amongst themselves, trying to figure out just what was going on. Neither of them knew about Fatheade's past history with the residents of Ririnde Valley, and of course neither of them could understand why the guards were so worried by the very sight of a Jigglypuff to suddenly be on high alert and forbid him from entering. Before they could come anywhere near a solution, a sound from somewhere off in the distance caught both of their attention—a deep, rumbling voice that none of them recognized, though to Fatheade it seemed oddly familiar.

"_Fatheade!_"

This voice was soon followed by the sound of some larger creature rapidly dashing throughout the halls of the underground village, causing a few loose bits of soil to break free of the walls and ceiling and scatter to the floor. As the galloping footsteps came closer, Varney was shaken free of the wall, fluttering about in a panic trying to figure out where all this noise was coming from before finally curling up on the floor with his wings covering his ears. Before any of them could react, a blue-and-tan blur came whooshing past the group and smacking headlong into Fatheade with such force that it knocked the backpack right off his back (though, fortunately, he was able to reach up and grab his hat with both hands just in time to prevent it from being thrown aside as well.) Fatheade and his apparent attacker rolled down the hallway in their entangled state for nearly a dozen feet before finally slowing to a stop.

"Damn, Harmon," Fatheade grumbled, squeezing himself out from under the much larger Pokémon that had bowled him over. "You've gotten _big_ since the last time I saw ya, huh?"

The Typhlosion laughed, then reared up onto his hind legs, making the difference in size between the two even more apparent than it had been when he was on all fours.

"And you've gotten yourself a new hat," he said, tapping the miniature plaque sewn into the front of it with one of his front paws. "So, what brings you back to Ririnde?"

"Eh, just passin' through this time," Fatheade said, walking back to the other end of the hall with the Typhlosion following closely behind him. He stopped for a moment to put his fallen backpack back on before continuing on past the one remaining guard. "Headin' up north to this place called Polunk. Village elder, some old Lucario guy… says they've had reports of people getting' attacked by somethin' nobody can identify."

"So the investigation business is still going, huh?"

Fatheade sighed.

"Barely. This's the first real job we've had in weeks. For all I know it might be my last one."

"Sorry about the guards, by the way," the Typhlosion said, turning toward Fatheade as the Jigglypuff stopped walking for a moment to get his bearings. "They're a little on edge lately, after what happened last week…"

Fatheade turned, giving him an odd look.

"And what the _hell_ happened last week that would make 'em wanna refuse entry to somebody just for bein' a Jigglypuff?"

"Last week, several Jigglypuffs came into the valley and started wreaking havoc," Harmon answered, pausing for a moment and glancing in all directions to see if anyone was around before continuing. "We haven't mentioned it to anyone besides the guards, but… these Jigglypuffs weren't normal."

"Whaddya mean 'not normal?'", Fatheade asked, raising an eyebrow slightly. "I mean… exactly what kinda 'not normal' are we talkin' about, here?"

"To put it simply… it was as if they were nothing more than puppets. They _looked_ like any other Jigglypuff, but they moved and acted as if they were being controlled by some outside force."

He scratched one of his ears for a moment, then continued.

"Though, in all honestly, the guards really _should_ have known that you weren't one of them the moment you opened your mouth. The ones who attacked us before… none of them ever spoke a single word."

Fatheade looked almost shocked.

"A _quiet_ Jigglypuff?", he mumbled, stringing the words together awkwardly as if they were a combination he had never felt any need to say before. "Well, that just ain't natural. 'Quiet' for us is more like... 'less noisy,' y'know what I'm sayin'?"

The larger Pokémon nodded. For a few minutes afterward, the two old friends continued to walk down the tunnels, catching up on things that had happened in each other's lives over the decade that had passed since the last time they had seen each other. Before long, they came to a much larger room with several stone tables set up in the middle—clearly, this was the dining room.

"Damn, it smells good in here," Fatheade mumbled, closing his eyes for a moment and sniffing the air to catch a whiff of the various food aromas wafting throughout the room. "Any chance ya got enough to spare for a few travelers?"

Harmon smiled.

"Only if you promise not to eat a week's supply of food again."

"Nah, these kids ain't got _that_ kinda appetite in 'em," Fatheade laughed. "I can still clear a table with the best of 'em, 'n' Lopendra ain't too bad either… but even all put together there's no way we're gonna empty the shelves like the guys ten years ago could."

With that little detail cleared up, Fatheade and Harmon walked over to the largest of the tables and sat down on the floor alongside them just in time for the first wave of dishes to come out. The rest of the investigation team, quickly being escorted through the tunnels by the two guards, soon caught up to them and joined in, and before long food began to disappear from the table almost as quickly as it could arrive. The problems of the outside world—the appearance of strange, zombie-like Pokémon, rumors of unexplained attacks from the north, and even such mundane threats as roadside bandits—seemed far away. At least for a while, Ririnde Valley was at peace.


	5. Leaving It All Behind

**Chapter 5: Leaving It All Behind**

Late into the night, when almost everyone else in Ririnde had long since gone to bed, Fatheade and Harmon walked down a narrow tunnel leading far back into the hills. The place where they were headed was normally off-limits to all visitors, but there was one person that the leader of the Ririnde clan made an exception for-and that was Fatheade DeStaav. Unlike other parts of the underground village, this path was not lit with small torches every few feet, so the Typhlosion flared his neck-flame just enough to provide their surroundings with enough light for both of them to see.

"So ya still have those weird Jigglypuffs held captive back here, huh?"

Harmon nodded.

"We couldn't just let them go free," he replied, "But without knowing what might be wrong with them, it didn't feel right to just execute them, either."

"Yeah…"

"Unfortunately, we haven't been able to get ahold of anyone who might be able to help us figure this out," he continued, making a turn into an even smaller tunnel that he had to walk on all fours just to fit inside. "There aren't many Psychic-types living nearby..."

Eventually, the two reached the end of the tunnel, which opened up into a much larger room, though the ceiling was still low. Up ahead, the walls had been reinforced with flat stones of all shapes and sizes, and a set of iron bars blocked them from going any further in that direction.

"Here we are," Harmon said, turning his head in the direction of the cell and intensifying his flames slightly so that the extra light illuminated the still bodies of four Jigglypuffs. "Hmm… looks like they must be asleep right now."

Fatheade walked up closer to the bars, peeking through the spaces between them. From this distance, the round, fluffy Pokémon imprisoned here seemed perfectly normal—their eyes were closed, and aside from the slight movements that came along with their breathing they were perfectly still. Until, of course, he took one step closer and touched one of the bars. One by one, the eyes of the four prisoners popped open wide, and they pulled themselves to their feet in unison, lining up next to each other and staring blankly at the newcomer.

Fatheade nearly stumbled backward in shock when, contrary to all reports he had previously heard, they began to speak.

"He is among the chosen," they said in perfect synchronization, their voices strangely excited but at the same time seeming devoid of any real feeling. "He will become one of us."

The four smiled the same fake, unnaturally-perfect smile and continued to stare directly into Fatheade's eyes, following his movements every time he flinched away from their gaze. Harmon was only able to stand and watch, eyes wide at the sight (and sound) of the Jigglypuffs suddenly up and active again after just lying around and ignoring everything around them for most of their time in the cell.

"They… they've never done this before," he mumbled, stepping between Fatheade and the bars in order to prevent whatever had gotten into the group from somehow affecting their fellow Jigglypuff. He had no idea how it worked, but he wasn't going to take any chances.

"Damn," Fatheade mumbled, peeking out from behind his larger friend only to quickly duck back behind him at the sight of the four Jigglypuffs still tracking his every move with their eyes. "Never thought we could be so damn… _creepy._ Yeesh…"

"She is waiting for you," the Jigglypuffs said, once again clearly directing their words toward Fatheade even when Harmon was blocking him from their sight. "Fatheade DeStaav… you really must go and meet her."

Fatheade slowly poked his head out from behind Harmon once again, flinching at the sight of the four pairs of unblinking blue-green eyes but forcing himself to stay in position.

"Who the hell're you freaks talkin' about now?", he grumbled, his usual attitude coming back to him as he attempted to interrogate the group of pink puffs. "Who's _she?_ Is _she_ the one who made ya start actin' like this?"

All at once, the Jigglypuffs nodded slightly.

"She gave us her power," they said, smiling the whole time. "A power unlike any of this world. But we only have a bit of her power… our transformation is not complete. She does not have enough power to transform this world on her own."

"Power from another world… huh," Fatheade said, blinking. For a moment, he froze in place, suddenly realizing something that he hadn't picked up on before. "Wait. How the _hell_ did you four know my name?"

The Jigglypuffs were silent.

"Looks like you asked a question they didn't want to answer," Harmon said, sighing and shaking his head slightly. "At least we learned this much, though. Before you came down here, they hadn't spoken a single word."

When the Typhlosion looked up, he found that all four of the Jigglypuffs had suddenly relocated themselves to the front of the cell, standing so close to the bars that their bodies were almost brushing up against them. Though Harmon was not noticeably startled, Fatheade almost jumped at the sight of them, not realizing that they were capable of moving so quickly and silently.

"He has been chosen," they repeated. "Fatheade DeStaav. He has been chosen… to lead us in the new world that she is bringing."

For a few moments, they all paused. Then, slowly, they turned around and walked back to the other end of their cell, leaving Fatheade and Harmon with just a few more words.

"She is waiting," they said, voices fading as they disappeared into the shadows. "She is waiting for him… in the north."

* * *

The next morning, it was not Ed who woke up late but Fatheade—after his encounter with the four strange prisoners, he had barely slept, plagued with strange dreams and finding that the words of his fellow Jigglypuffs seemed to keep drifting back into his mind no matter how much he tried to force them out. When one of the Quilava guards came to the guest room where he had been staying and nudged him awake, he was unsure whether to be annoyed that his sleep was interrupted or relieved that, at least this time, it was not another nightmare doing the interrupting.

By the time he joined Harmon for breakfast, the rest of his team had already finished eating. They greeted him as he entered the room, but didn't stick around much longer than that, instead heading back to their own guest rooms to pack their supplies so that they would be ready to leave by the time Fatheade was done with his meal.

"I don't get it," he grumbled, guzzling down a small cup of berry juice and pushing it to the side so that someone might scoop it up and bring him a refill. "Nothin' ever gets to me like that. Nothin' I've seen on the job in a dozen years ever kept me up at night like those freaks did… and believe me, I've seen some stuff that'd make a Machamp need to change his speedo."

Harmon nodded.

"Maybe it's because they're your own kind," he guessed. He paused between words to take a bite out of what appeared to be a roasted Caterpie. "Like they were saying… you could end up just like them."

Fatheade shook his head.

"I dunno," he mumbled in between bites of his own roasted bug. "I mean… I've seen all kinds'a messed-up stuff happen to Jigglypuffs before, and I never lost it like that. Just can't figure out what makes _this_ crap so different…"

Before long, they were done with their late breakfast, and Fatheade gulped down one last cup of berry juice before turning and heading off down the tunnel back to his room. Harmon noticed this and soon followed, catching up to the Jigglypuff quickly.

"So," he asked, "Getting ready to leave?"

Fatheade nodded.

"Gotta get goin' before too long," he said, continuing down the rounded dirt hallway as the Typhlosion walked alongside him. "We've gotta hurry if we're gonna get up to Polunk on time, after spendin' so much time hangin' around here."

"Polunk… that's in the north, isn't it?"

Fatheade just turned and nodded, not saying anything more. They both knew what Harmon was implying now, after what had happened the night before—heading north meant that Fatheade was putting himself closer to whatever entity had manipulated the other Jigglypuffs into their current state. Of course, Fatheade DeStaav was never the type to give up on a job just because it had suddenly become more dangerous... but after the way he had lost sleep over it the night before, Harmon did have the tiniest glimmer of hope that he might turn this one down. As the two reached the entrance to the room where Fatheade had been staying, the Typhlosion sighed slightly and then tapped him on the back with one paw.

"Huh? Whaddya want?"

"Well," Harmon said, stretching out his arms, "You're not gonna leave without a hug, are you?"

Fatheade snickered.

"Harmon… you and I both know you're _way_ too big for that."

"Aww, come on," the larger Pokémon said, crouching down and making an exaggerated puppy-dog face. "You're never too old for a goodbye hug!"

"Nah," Fatheade added, "Wasn't talkin' about age. I mean it, you're just too _big._ Lookit me, what am I, little over a foot 'n' a half tall? You've gotta be three or four times my size now."

Harmon stood up to his full height and looked down, noting that Fatheade didn't come anywhere near where his arms would be. He quickly figured out a solution to this problem, however—with a sudden lunge forward, he crouched down and scooped the smaller Pokémon up in his arms, ignoring his angry grunts and arm-waving and hugging him so tightly that his rubbery, flexible body actually ended up smooshed into a more oblong shape. After a few seconds, Harmon let go, letting Fatheade drop to the ground and return to his usual roundness. The Jigglypuff groaned and rubbed his back for a moment, then stood back up and laughed.

"Damn," he mumbled, "That much strength in just a hug, huh? Wouldn't wanna run into _you_ in a dark alley…"

Harmon laughed and waved goodbye, heading back to the dining room to help clear the tables as the last few stragglers from his own clan finished their meals. Before long, Fatheade had packed and rejoined his team, and once again they were off, heading up the other side of Ririnde Valley and continuing on their way into the north.

* * *

In less than an hour of walking, Ririnde Valley had completely disappeared in the distance. From this point on, there was nothing ahead of them but a vast wilderness; they would be spending every night between here and Polunk in their tent, eating only what they had brought along with them (or what they could find in the surrounding area.) It was probably for this reason that their movements on the first day of this new leg of the journey were a bit more sluggish than usual—each of the four had absolutely stuffed themselves during their stay in Ririnde Valley, with Fatheade alone finishing off a whole roasted Caterpie and half a gallon of berry juice during his most recent meal. Lopendra had possibly come close to equaling the Jigglypuff this time, devouring several dozen of the tiny boiled eggs (likely belonging to various species of bug Pokémon) that had been brought out to her on a platter and sharing a roasted Caterpie with several young Cyndaquils at her table who had just recently begun to eat solid food rather than relying entirely on their mothers' milk. Varney, fortunately, had not quite eaten so much that he had difficulty flying, though after three straight meals in Ririnde there was definitely a noticeable jiggle in his belly every time he flapped his wings. Even Ed had eaten more than his share of the food the clan had shared with him, trying out chunks of roasted meat from a Surskit as well as a salad made up of weeds scooped out of the rivers and ponds that provided the valley with its water source. Though they had no way of knowing that the group was coming, it seemed that they had just the right foods for each of them on hand.

As their food began to digest and their pace quickened, the investigation team left the hilly regions surrounding Ririnde as the road began to wind along the edges of a dense forest. Ed couldn't help but stare up at the trees that rose up into the sky all around him as he walked past the forest's edge, his pace slowing a bit so that he was now walking a few feet behind even Fatheade. For a moment, the shadowy visions he had seen in the tent of the Great Foudin came to mind—specifically, the images of many trees, followed by a strangely-shaped one in the center of a clearing, its twisted branches spiraling up into the air at unusually sharp angles. There was no way of knowing whether this forest was the one he had seen then or not, but it was hard to keep from wondering.

"'Ey, Fatheade," Varney called out from above, "You're a little quieter than normal today. What's goin' on?"

The Jigglypuff sighed, muttering something under his breath. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite quiet enough—the Zubat's sensitive hearing picked up on at least part of it, and he quickly swooped lower to fly right alongside Fatheade.

"What was that?"

"None o' your business," Fatheade grumbled. "Just couldn't get enough sleep last night. Why'd ya think I've got these dark circles under my eyes, huh?"

"That ain't what you said a second ago," Varney said. "I heard it. Something about… some 'freaks' back at Ririnde?"

Fatheade groaned. He had underestimated just how accurate Varney's hearing was, even from ten feet above him in mid-flight; he had heard too much to just drop it now. There was nothing else he could do but explain the situation to the rest of the group, as much as he would've liked to keep it covered up. Part of it was just his pride—he hated to admit that something had shaken him so badly that he could hardly sleep the night afterward, especially when at first glance it seemed like it shouldn't have been that big a deal compared to the things he'd seen over the years. That wasn't the only reason he was reluctant to tell the rest of the team, however.

"Well, I really didn't wanna have to tell ya about this," he said, "But... last night, while you guys were all busy sleepin'… me 'n' Harmon paid a visit to those Jigglypuffs that they'd locked up for causin' trouble in Ririnde a week ago."

Lopendra turned and gave him an odd look.

"And?", she said, one of her antennae twitching. "That can't be it, right?"

Fatheade shook his head.

"Nah… that ain't all," he continued. "Somethin' was… well, somethin' about those four just wasn't right. Harmon said they'd been quiet ever since they locked 'em up, but once I got in there…"

"That's when they started talkin', huh?"

"Yeah," Fatheade nodded. "Wouldn't shut up, either. All four of 'em, talkin' at once, sayin' the exact same damn stuff in this weird voice… never thought us Jigglypuffs could be so damn _creepy._"

"Um," Ed spoke up, quietly at first. "Did you notice anything weird about the way they moved?"

Fatheade blinked.

"Now that I think about it… yeah," he said, "They were movin' all in unison, too. Sudden jerky movements, usually when nobody was lookin' right at 'em."

Everyone but Ed suddenly stopped in their tracks. The Squirtle took a couple steps before realizing this, nearly bumping into Fatheade as the Jigglypuff (along with both Varney and Lopendra) turned to face him.

"Wait a second," Fatheade said, pointing at the youngest member of his team, "Wait just a second here. How'd you know there was gonna be somethin' weird about the way those freaks moved?"

Ed gulped. It looked like it wasn't just Fatheade who was going to have to mention something that he had originally wanted to keep secret.

"Well, I, uh… I didn't really _know,_" he stuttered, "I just… um… well, you see, the night before we left, I stopped by this old fortuneteller's tent, and…"

"Fortuneteller?", Fatheade mumbled, eyes widening slightly. "You're tellin' me Foudin was back in town?"

The Squirtle nodded.

"Yeah… that's what the Alakazam's name was," he said, "The Great Foudin. And, well… he told me that he usually just does tricks to fool tourists, but for me—"

"Damn," Fatheade said, interrupting him. "Ol' Foudin _never_ admits that kinda stuff. So what the hell'd he do, then?"

"He… well, him and his assistant… they showed me the future," Ed said. "Well, _a _future. I mean, they said it wasn't guaranteed to happen like that just because Foudin saw it that way, but…"

He paused for a moment, glancing at the trees and then back to Fatheade again before continuing.

"One of the things I saw was a Jigglypuff," he finished, leaving out the detail that this particular Jigglypuff just happened to be wearing the same hat as Fatheade. "And he… I mean, the Jigglypuff… it wasn't moving like a normal Jigglypuff. It was kind of… twitchy, almost mechanical."

"Damn… that sounds just about right," Fatheade muttered. "Looks like ol' Foudin ain't gone crazy yet after all, then. So what'd you see this Jigglypuff do?"

Ed shrugged.

"Not much," he answered, "Just… walking. I could tell something was wrong, but I didn't see enough to figure out much else."

"Ah, well," Fatheade said, turning away from Ed and focusing on the trail ahead once again. "Guess we'll just have to see how things go from here, then. You guys ready to head into these woods?"

The rest of the group nodded and grunted in agreement. With that brief stop along the way now over, they headed off down the road once again, following the path as it skirted along the edge of the woods for another few minutes before finally plunging between the trees.


	6. Yellow Forest

**Chapter 6: Yellow Forest**

The first day of traveling through the woods was fairly uneventful for most of the group; they weren't attacked, the weather stayed fairly calm, and nothing unexpected came up along the road, not even something as mundane as a fallen tree or two blocking the road or thorny plants growing up higher than usual and making it difficult to pass through comfortably. Despite this, Ed was constantly amazed at the sights and sounds of the forest, slowing to take a good look at every new Pokémon or plant they walked past. There were bugs and Grass-types of all sorts hiding amongst the leaves and branches, and occasionally signs of something less common would come up—footprints across the trail, scratches left behind on the ground or in the trees, a Combee nest that had been torn down from its treetop perch and partially eaten before whichever foraging Pokémon was responsible was driven away by the attacks of its residents. Once, he even saw a pair of Murkrows sleeping in their nest high above his head, spotting the sun glinting off of their shiny black feathers almost instantly against the backdrop of greens and browns.

Before long, the sun had gone down, and the already shady forest began to grow dark. During their previous nights of walking, they had relied upon the light of the moon to see; now, with the taller trees almost completely blocking this out, their surroundings weren't far off from pitch black by the time the last shreds of orange and purple light from the sunset disappeared. Varney, of course, wouldn't have even noticed if not for the accompanying drop in temperature; Lopendra picked up on the fact that it had gotten darker but didn't seem to be slowed down at all by this, her night vision being significantly clearer than that of either Ed or Fatheade. Just as it almost got to the point where the Squirtle was occasionally stumbling off the edges of the trail into the bushes alongside it, Fatheade reached down and snatched a fallen branch off of the ground. Digging around in his backpack for a few moments, he pulled out a bit of rope and some sort of dark, clumpy material that nobody else in the group could identify. Tying this onto the end of the stick, he created a spark of flame just like the one he used to light his cigars with a flick of one of his hands, transforming the stick into a makeshift torch.

"'Ey kid, carry this," he said, handing the stick to Ed. "That oughta help out a little bit, at least…"

Indeed, the torch did at least help Ed see a few feet in front of him, providing enough light for him and Fatheade to see the trail in front of them. Though the more-nocturnal members of the group had to slow down a bit so that the others could keep up, the investigation team as a whole wasn't slowed down too badly by this new development. Before long, though, Fatheade's lack of sleep the night before had begun to wear on him a bit too heavily for him to go on much longer, and the team decided to stop at the next clearing and set up camp. Ed found a soft patch of dirt and stuck the end of the torch Fatheade had put together into it to provide some light for the group to see by, and before long they had the tent (which still seemed unnecessarily large) set up and the beginnings of a campfire flickering to life. By the time they had gotten the campsite set up all the way, everyone had finally gotten hungry enough for another real meal—they had all but skipped lunch after how well they had eaten in Ririnde Valley, snacking on a few berries but otherwise not bothering with lunch. Fatheade immediately went to work, starting to boil up a pot of some kind of soup made using various herbs and some of the dried meat that Lopendra had brought along. Varney fluttered off to find some unsuspecting Pokémon to drink a bit of blood from, as he usually did, while the other three hung around the campsite waiting for the tasty-smelling pot of soup to finish cooking.

It wasn't long before the soup had vanished before their eyes and the group was full once again, and the sleepiness that always seemed to come over them after a good meal was taking hold. As Varney took up his position upside-down in a nearby tree and Ed quickly put out the fire with a Water Gun attack (and a few pokes from a stick to make sure that every last bit of it was safely extinguished), Fatheade and Lopendra tucked themselves into their sleeping bags and fell asleep almost immediately. Ed followed shortly afterward, and before long that particular clearing was filled with the soft, quiet snores of three sleeping Pokémon.

* * *

In the wee hours of the morning, Lopendra sat awake at the edge of the clearing, staring into the dark forest around her. Varney had headed off to sleep nearly an hour before, but sunset was still a ways off; at this hour, even a place as heavily populated as this forest was all but silent, only the occasional calls of Hoothoots and the barely-audible Kricketune songs (only occasionally reaching this deep into the woods, as the cricket Pokémon generally stayed in the plains and never wandered too far within the forest's borders) in the distance breaking the monotony.

That is, until a rustling sound from the bushes on the other side of the trail caught her attention. Her antennae stood straight up and her tail stiffened, preparing to attack the moment anything so much as took a step in her direction. For a few moments, nothing happened; then, she heard some more rustling, this time from a slightly different direction.

"Okay," she said, speaking just loudly enough that whatever was hiding amongst the shrubbery could hear her, "I've heard you moving in those bushes _twice_ now. Show yourself."

She paused and waited for a response. Instead, the forest was dead silent.

"I know someone's in there," she continued, waiting for a bit for even the slightest sound of movement before speaking again. "And I'm warning you, I won't go easy on you if you're trying to start a fight or mess with our campsite."

For a moment, she heard a slight rustle from another bush—this time, one just a few feet away from her, on the side of the road where she was currently standing. Whatever was lurking just outside the clearing, there were more than one—and they had her surrounded. She tensed up, glancing around in all directions while attempting to pick up on any vibrations or other changes in the air around her using her antennae at the same time. At first, there was nothing. Then, suddenly, she felt the distinct sensation of static electricity building up all around her.

Before she could get out of the way, she was suddenly struck with a wave of yellowish energy that spread out from the bush closest to her, surrounding her body for a few seconds and leaving traces of electricity crackling around her afterward. She flinched a bit, but it seemed that the attack hadn't actually harmed her—until, of course, she made an attempt to lunge toward the bush and found that half of her legs refused to move, causing her to stumble face-first into the dirt. At this moment, a small Pokémon dropped down out of the tree and landed next to her, shoving her so that she rolled over onto her back. She whipped her tail in the newcomer's direction, but the yellow-furred rodent easily dodged it and responded by swinging his own flat-edged tail and slamming it into her side, rolling her over into the road. Two more Pikachus leapt out of the bushes and joined the one who had been waiting in the trees above, lifting Lopendra up and tying her onto a wooden pole that one of the two had been carrying. She tried to call out to the others sleeping in the tent, but once again the tiny sparks of electricity crackled up around her, numbing her entire body and preventing her from making any sound at all.

Having no way of knowing what was going on just a few feet away from them, Fatheade, Varney, and Ed just peacefully slept on as Lopendra was dragged away deeper into the forest, separated from her friends and traveling companions and taken deep into the heart of the Pikachu tribe's territory…

* * *

The next morning, Fatheade was the first to awaken, yawning and stretching his stubby little arms as he wormed his way out of his sleeping bag. The sun had not quite risen high enough to penetrate through the dense foliage above them, so the campsite was still dark; he waddled half-asleep over to the spot where the torch had been left the night before and re-lit what was left of it, only then noticing that Lopendra was absent.

"'Ey, Lopendra?", he mumbled, glancing up and down the road nearby and then back around the campsite again to make sure he hadn't just overlooked her—she had been known to curl into a ball in some very unusual places before, after all. Not seeing any sign of her, he raised his voice a bit more, stirring Ed and Varney awake. "Lopendra! Where are ya!?"

"Whoa," Varney mumbled, walking on his wings as he crawled out from under the barely-open tent flap. "What's going on out here?"

Fatheade turned and sighed.

"Looks like Lopendra's disappeared," he said, frowning a bit more than normal even considering just how early it was. "Not a sign of 'er around camp, 'n' I haven't been able to get a response from 'er yellin' 'er name into the woods either… we might have'ta go lookin' for 'er if she doesn't turn up in the next half-hour."

Ed staggered out of the tent halfway through Fatheade's last sentence, hearing most of it. He put his glasses on and walked over to the Zubat and Jigglypuff standing near the torch at the edge of camp, scratching his head slightly for a second before speaking up.

"Uh… guys?", he said, pointing to the ground beneath their feet. "Either of you know what kinda footprints _these_ are?"

Varney just groaned and… well, moved his head in a way that would have been suggestive of eye-rolling, if Zubats had in fact had eyes to roll. Fatheade, on the other hand, crouched to the ground where the Squirtle had pointed and took a very close look at the prints that he had taken notice of. For a few minutes, he scuttled about the campsite, looking over every last footprint he could find; there were, of course, quite a few of the small round or pointed prints belonging to a Venipede (presumably Lopendra, though the southern region of this forest was a natural habitat for the species), but mingled in among the Venipede prints were several sets belonging to a very different species.

"Damn," Fatheade muttered, clenching one hand into a fist as he stood up. "I'd recognize those footprints anywhere… we've had Pikachus in the camp."

He followed the prints out into the road, noticing a few other unusual marks—such as a dent in the soft earth on the edge of the road where a Pokémon seemed to have slammed into it. More Pikachu footprints seemed to be both coming and going from some of the bushes nearby, but the set heading back into the bushes appeared to be walking in single file, separated by only about two feet of space. Fatheade didn't get his job as an investigator for nothing, and he certainly didn't get it just because of his reputation as a surprisingly tough fighter, either—looking over the evidence, it didn't take him long to figure out exactly what had happened the night before.

"Two Pikachus here," he mumbled to himself, pointing out the near-identical sets of prints, "Walkin' one after the other… and they're takin' just a little bit heavier steps than the ones over in the campsite, too…"

He turned back toward Ed and Varney before continuing, this time speaking directly to them rather than mostly to himself.

"Lopendra's nowhere to be found… 'n' we've got Pikachu tracks headin' outta the campsite that look like they were carryin' somethin' when they left," he said, pointing to the patch of ground where those very tracks were located. "I'll bet ya anything that what we're dealin' with here is a couple o' those yellow rats sneakin' in here and takin' off with one o' the team."

Ed adjusted his glasses slightly, giving Fatheade an odd look.

"But… why the heck would some Pikachus just barge in and kidnap somebody like that?"

Fatheade slapped one hand to his forehead.

"Kid… you got a _lot_ to learn if you think Pikachus are nothin' but happy little electric balls o' fun all the time," he grumbled. "This place we're walkin' through right now? They call it Yellow Forest. Y'know why that is?"

Ed shook his head. This was the first time he had heard the name.

"They say a hundred years ago, there were so many o' them here that if they all came outta hiding at once, the whole place would turn yellow," the Jigglypuff explained, glancing around at the trees around him for a moment before continuing. "Usually Pikachus ain't too bad, a little twitchy sometimes, sure, but not too bad."

He began to pace back and forth a bit, waving his hands for emphasis as he continued.

"But _these_ guys… the Pikachu tribe around here? They got all these crazy ideas in their heads," he said, "Somethin' about them bein' the ones who were supposed'ta rule the world, or some crap like that. When they started talkin' and found out that everybody else wasn't too happy about that idea, well… all hell broke loose."

"Guess ya could say that's why Yellow Forest ain't quite so yellow anymore, huh?", Varney added.

Fatheade just nodded in response.

"Anyway… we've gotta go find 'er," he said, turning in the direction where the Pikachu footprints leading into the bushes had been headed. "Grab a few berries or somethin' and get ready, 'cuz we ain't havin' breakfast 'til we get Lopendra back."

* * *

For nearly an hour afterward, Ed and Fatheade trudged through the undergrowth of the forest with Varney flying overhead, the Jigglypuff keeping his eyes glued to the ground beneath them in an attempt to track the path of the Pikachu footprints. If his guess as to how things had gone down was correct, then two Pikachus had teamed up to carry Lopendra off—and Pikachus, not being the largest or strongest Pokémon in the world, would not have been able to climb trees or jump very effectively while carrying a full-grown Venipede. This meant that the two that had dragged her away from camp would need to stick to the ground, and thus would be pretty easy to track.

It wasn't long before signs that they were entering Pikachu territory began to appear. Ed and Varney both quickly picked up on a distinct ozone smell in the air, a scent which often developed in areas with large Electric-type populations; before long, Fatheade's less-sensitive nose was able to detect it as well, though only just barely. The group slowed down and began to walk a bit more carefully at this point, making sure not to make any excessive noise that would alert any nearby Pikachus to their presence before they were able to figure out where Lopendra had been taken. Unfortunately, it was around this point where the tracks became much more difficult to follow—the two pairs of Pikachu footprints were now mixed into a field of older, shallower Pikachu footprints rather than untouched soil, at times blending in so well that Fatheade could barely distinguish them from their surroundings. The Jigglypuff paused, glancing around at the forest around him and sighing.

"Damn," he whispered, just loud enough to be heard by Ed and Varney. "Looks like this's gonna be a little tougher from here on, huh…"

The three waited for a few moments, listening to every tiny sound around them, before continuing on into the forest. The bushes and fallen branches had been cleared away from the ground in the area they were walking through now, leaving only dirt and grasses behind—a sure sign that they were coming up on a heavily-populated area. As Fatheade focused on the ground, still trying to follow the two sets of footprints but having some difficulty, Ed instead glanced around at his surroundings, which were gradually becoming easier to see as the light of the rising sun slowly began to trickle down through the forest's canopy. A tree stump nearby was covered with the seeds and pits of various fruit, which seemed to have been dried out or even slightly burnt by something; another stump had been hollowed out and—based on the smell wafting out from it as he passed—was probably being used as a communal toilet for the Pikachu tribe. Before long, they had entered a region of the forest where old ropes and banners hung from nearly every branch, forcing Varney to swerve about to dodge them as he flew past. Most of the banners that hadn't faded out from age clearly depicted Pikachus—some of them fighting other Pokémon (which were usually depicted as vague, colored blobs with little detail), others eating, drinking, or sleeping, and still others depicted simply standing alone or in groups, sometimes surrounded by dozens of tiny Pichus. Others here and there showed lightning-bolt patterns, other Pokémon (it seemed that only a few closely-related species, such as Marill, fared better than the vague depiction that most seemed to be stuck with), or colorful swirls and patterns that Ed couldn't determine the meaning of.

"'Ey," Fatheade whispered, catching the attention of the other two Pokémon, "Everybody be real careful from here on. No sudden noises. Ain't seen or heard a single Pikachu since we got in here, so I'm guessin' we managed to slip in here before they woke up."

Varney descended just enough that he no longer needed to swerve back and forth to avoid the hanging banners, while Ed and Fatheade just continued on like they had before, being careful not to step on any twigs or crunchy-looking leaves in order to cross the Pikachu tribe's territory as stealthily as possible. They passed by several spots which were clearly Pikachu homes, a few of them with entrances carved out from large knotholes in ancient trees but most being nothing more than simple burrows dug out of the dirt among their roots. Before long, they reached a clearing dotted with campfire rings, log benches, and a variety of rope and wood structures—and, right in the center of three fire pits arranged in a triangular formation, was Lopendra. She had been tied to a stick with several ropes and was now dangling upside-down in midair, suspended from two tall stumps with notches cut out so that the stick fit into them tightly. She seemed to be unconscious, but not seriously harmed.

Fatheade let out a sigh of relief, then immediately quickened his pace just a bit, passing Ed and making a beeline for the place where his missing companion was being held captive. Before he could get close enough to begin to untie her, however, a bolt of electricity streaked through the air from somewhere above and came down in the dirt just a few feet in front of him, kicking up a spray of loose soil and nearly blinding him with the flash of light that came along with it.

A single battle-scarred Pikachu, half of his right ear missing, dropped down from one of the trees overhead, landing right in front of the two stumps where Lopendra was tied up. Just as Varney and Ed moved in closer to Fatheade and got ready for a fight, at least a dozen more of the yellow-furred Pokémon suddenly appeared from between the trees all around, surrounding the three. They had walked right into a trap.


	7. The Falling Star

**Chapter 7: The Falling Star**

Fatheade clenched his fists and growled; the Pikachus had been smarter than he had expected. They had captured Lopendra and ignored the rest of the campsite on purpose—all to lure the remaining members of the group into their territory, where they could easily surround and outnumber the travelers, capturing the entire group without putting forth more effort than they needed to catch just one.

"Damn," he grumbled, staring directly at the battle-scarred Pikachu standing a few feet in front of him. "Draggin' her off just to get us here… that was a dirty trick, y'know that?"

The Pikachu just smirked and took a step forward, whipping his tail behind him as he approached. Fatheade shifted himself into a fighting stance, but didn't make a move just yet.

"How 'bout we settle this thing one-on-one, huh? Leave the kids outta this, let the big boys do all the fightin'," he said, pointing to the Pikachu and then back to his own hat before clenching his hand back into a fist. He didn't dare look away, but his ears twitched about in all directions, trying to figure out how Ed and Varney's situations were going by the sounds coming from where he had last seen them. "You 'n' I both know either one of us could take out a dozen o' these Pikachus on our own, no problem… we just ain't on the same level as punks like them. Whaddya say?"

The Pikachu just shook his head and took another step forward, crouching down slightly and beginning to charge up electricity in his cheeks.

"No?", Fatheade said, smiling slightly. "Huh. Guess you punks ain't so great after all. Ain't you the guys who think you're some kinda superior species, rightful rulers o' the world and all that? If you're really so special, you'd be able to handle me without any backup, don't ya think?"

This finally seemed to catch the Pikachu's attention. The electricity crackled around his cheeks for just a moment longer before fizzling out, and he stood up straight once again, raising one hand high above his head. Immediately, the other Pikachus turned to face him and stood perfectly still, awaiting further orders.

"Fellow Pikachus," he said, "Do what you wish with the Squirtle and Zubat… just as long as you make sure they do not interfere with my fight."

Fatheade frowned; he had hoped that he'd be able to convince the Pikachu leader to leave the others alone, but it looked like that wasn't going to be possible. Out of the corner of his eye, he could already see several of the yellow rats creeping up closer to where Ed was standing, cheeks beginning to glow in preparation for some sort of electrical attack; Varney at least could fly out of range to avoid them, but there wouldn't be much the Squirtle could do to protect himself if several of the Electric-types started attacking him all at once.

"Oh, and one more thing," the leader of the Pikachus called out, raising his hand again to catch the attention of the others. "One of you… bring forth the artifact."

Immediately, one of the Pikachus bowed and then scampered off across the clearing, rushing into a large hole at the base of one of the forest's largest trees. A few seconds later, the sound of something rolling across uneven ground reached Fatheade's ears; not long after that, the Pikachu reappeared, this time pulling an old wooden cart behind him as fast as his limited strength would allow him to go. The leader of the Pikachus turned slightly and watched as his servant skidded to a stop alongside him, then carefully plucked a small yellow orb from a cushion inside the cart.

"This," he said, taking the orb from his servant's hands, "Is the Light Ball… passed down from one leader of the Yellow Forest tribe to the next, from generation to generation."

He held the ball with both hands and brought it down in front of his chest, attaching it to the end of a necklace that had previously been all but invisible thanks to his fur. Almost instantly, electricity began to crackle around his cheeks, which shifted from their usual red to an orangey-yellow glow.

"With this artifact," he said, raising his voice slightly as the electricity around his cheeks began to crackle a bit louder, "I can now demonstrate to you the _true_ power of the great Pikachu race!"

He shouted and raised his arms to the heavens, sending a small spark of electricity into the sky. Moments later, a powerful bolt of lightning came crashing down in response, missing Fatheade by just inches as he dove out of the way and rolled along the ground to escape it. The Jigglypuff wiped some sweat off his brow; that attack had been _way_ too close. The spot that it had struck now resembled a blackened, miniature crater more than an ordinary patch of dirt, and even now sparks of electricity large enough to give somebody a painful shock still flared up in the area occasionally. If he had actually gotten _hit_ with something like that… he didn't even want to think about how bad that would've hurt. All that talk about bringing out a greater level of power was no joke—an attack like that _should've_ been well beyond what a Pikachu was capable of. He'd have to be careful with this one.

"Hey, not bad," Fatheade said, springing back to his feet and turning to face his opponent. "Betcha can't do it again."

The leader of the Pikachus laughed and, just like before, his cheeks began to glow brightly as a swarm of tiny electrical bolts crackled around them. Just as he was about to bring down another bolt of lightning, Fatheade lunged forward and clapped his hands together, causing a flash of pale blue light to illuminate the area around the two of them for just a moment. The Pikachu raised his hands to the sky and shouted once again, and just like before the electricity around his cheeks shot up into the sky as a small spark of compacted electrical energy… but after that, absolutely nothing happened.

Before the leader of the Pikachus could figure out what had happened, Fatheade pointed one of his hands at his necklace, causing a quick burst of flame to leap forward and ignite the string that held it together. The Pikachu yelped slightly but quickly regained his composure, furiously patting at the tiny flames with both paws to put them out before they could ignite his fur—and, in the process, causing the already-fragile scorched string to crumble into ash and the Light Ball it was supporting to fall to the ground. He dove after it, but it bounced slightly on impact and then rolled away, coming to a stop right at Fatheade's feet. The Pikachu immediately jumped back to his feet and snarled.

"Don't you dare touch that!"

Fatheade reached down and snatched up the little yellow sphere, rolling it around a bit in his hand before staring the Pikachu right in the eye and smirking.

"Why not?", he asked, tossing it back and forth between his hands. "Lemme guess… you're afraid I'll use it against ya, ain't ya?"

"The Light Ball does nothing for inferior species," the Pikachu snapped. "It cannot draw out the hidden power of one who has no such power in the first place. For you, it will be no more useful than a shiny rock."

"A shiny rock, huh?", Fatheade mumbled. "Well, I can think o' _one_ use for somethin' like that…"

He tossed the Light Ball up into the air, then caught it as it came back down, clutching it tightly in his right hand. Then, before the Pikachu could react, Fatheade wound up and then flung the artifact forward so quickly that even he couldn't dodge it from such a close distance. The sphere smashed into the Pikachu's face at full force, suddenly erupting with electricity on impact as a small crack in the ball's outer shell finally gave way and cracked the entire thing open. Fatheade covered his eyes for a moment as his field of vision was flooded with white and yellow light; when he opened them up again, his opponent had staggered backward, nearly bumping into one of the stumps where Lopendra was suspended. Tiny sparks of electricity lingered from the Light Ball's explosion, occasionally creeping up around the scarred Pokémon's body. The Light Ball itself was split cleanly in two, lying in a pile of what looked like shattered glass.

"Well, now that you're done blabberin' about how great Pikachus are," the Jigglypuff said, cracking his knuckles and taking a few steps forward while making sure not to step on what was left of the Pikachu artifact. "How 'bout we get back to that fight, huh? One-on-one, just you and me… remember?"

The Pikachu's one good ear twitched, and then immediately was surrounded by a few streaks of electricity that stopped it in mid-twitch, sticking straight up in the air. He growled and reached up with one hand, slapping his own ear several times before it finally began to move like normal again. He turned and faced Fatheade again, breathing heavily and forcing himself to step forward despite the partial paralysis that had taken hold over his body when the Light Ball had detonated; the confident look on his face before was gone, replaced with wide-eyed, teeth-baring rage.

"How dare you," he said, struggling to take a step as his leg was surrounded by arcs of electricity in mid-stride. "How _dare_ you treat a sacred artifact of the Yellow Forest tribe so carelessly!"

His cheeks glowed a bright yellow for a second before discharging a bolt of electricity, far smaller than the one he had called down from the sky before but still enough to be dangerous. Fatheade made a move to dodge, but he just wasn't fast enough—the electricity struck his lower body right as he began to jump to the side out of its path, knocking him out of the air and sending him skidding backward across the ground. He quickly recovered, but his opponent was already beginning to charge up another attack before he even got back to his feet.

* * *

Meanwhile, Varney and Ed were beginning to struggle against the gang of Pikachus that had them surrounded. Though their opponents hadn't seemed to be taking them especially seriously up until this point, it seemed that they were nearly as angry as their leader now that the Light Ball had been destroyed; though they had been forbidden from attacking the hat-wearing Jigglypuff no matter how much they now wanted to, they apparently had no problem taking it out on his two comrades instead. Varney was forced to fly into the trees just to avoid their attacks, swerving so that he passed behind the trunks and branches of one tree after another as a flurry of Thundershocks came streaking upward after him. Down on the ground, Ed was having an even harder time—though he had managed to get a good hit in on one of the Pikachus with a Water Gun that knocked the yellow rat flat on his back, he was just too slow to keep up with so many opponents at once and found himself being slammed to the ground repeatedly both by the Pikachus' attacks and his own failed attempts to duck and roll out of the way to avoid them. Narrowly avoiding one Pikachu's tail-slam by jumping up into the air, he was stuck from behind by a blast of electricity and sent tumbling forward, landing face-first in the dirt.

All around him, he heard the crackle of electricity as at least five Pikachus began to charge up attacks simultaneously. He was exhausted; simply standing up (using all four legs to support himself) at this point took nearly all that he had. For a moment he wobbled and then stumbled, crashing back to the ground on his stomach and breathing heavily. As the Pikachus shouted triumphantly and sent half a dozen small bolts of lightning flying in his direction, all he could think to do was duck inside his shell and hope it would end soon.

As it turned out, it did. But not in the way he had expected—just as the electricity from the Pikachu tribe was about to converge on him, his shell began to glow brightly with a mysterious silvery light, causing shadowy images of the trees and Pikachus around him to appear on its surface as if it had become a distorted mirror. The Thundershock attacks collided with this glowing outer layer of the Squirtle's shell, the force of their impact pushing him several inches down into the dirt. Instead of penetrating his shell and shocking him like every time before, however, the bolts seemed to vanish into the shell's mirrored surface. As the Pikachus stood and stared, their own attacks—now transformed into a wave of some sort of iridescent silvery energy—came flying right back out at them, slamming into all of them at once and sending the whole group flying backward. Several of them smashed into trees and collapsed into the dirt below; the rest stayed on the ground where they had fallen for just a few seconds before struggling back to their feet, still conscious but clearly shaken from the impact.

"Holy crap!", Varney blurted out, hearing the sound of the Pikachus being thrown aside all at once but not having any idea what had happened due to his inability to actually see it. "Whoa! Ed! What the heck was _that?_"

The Squirtle poked his head back out of his shell slowly, glancing up toward the Zubat's current position and blinking a couple times.

"What was… what?"

"Aw, c'mon," the Zubat said, swerving out of the path of another Thundershock that only missed one of his wings by a couple inches. "You just put two or three Pikachus outta the fight in one shot! Don't tell me you don't know!"

"But," he mumbled, "But I didn't…"

His eyes slipped shut; finally the last of his strength had given out, cutting him off right in the middle of his answer. Before Varney could find out if Ed was going to finish his sentence, a Pikachu that had scampered up into the trees after him caught him off guard, leaping from a nearby branch and tackling him. Thrown off balance by the sudden impact, Varney flapped his wings furiously but was unable to counter the squirming Pikachu's weight and soon plummeted to the ground.

* * *

Back on the other side of the battlefield, Fatheade and his opponent both yelled out a battle cry and charged. The two exchanged a series of blows, which ended when one of Fatheade's punches missed its mark and he was thrown back by a powerful tail-slam right in the gut. Tumbling backward and rolling to a stop, Fatheade once again pulled himself to his feet—but this time, he just happened to catch a glimpse of Ed lying unconscious a few dozen feet away and Varney pinned to the ground by one Pikachu, flailing wildly while two others took turns swiping and kicking at him. His eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed again as he turned toward the leader of the Pikachus and scowled.

"This ain't over yet," he said, putting up his fists and preparing for another attack. "They may look like they're already down, but those kids're tougher'n you think. Did ya see how Ed knocked three of those punks out in one shot?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he snarled.

"Oh, speakin' of ridiculous," Fatheade said, stepping to the side slightly for no reason that the Pikachu could figure out. "Ever hear of a little game called 'bowling?'"

"What? What does that have to do with—"

Before he could finish his sentence, he felt something round and heavy slam into him from behind, knocking him flat on his face and smashing him further into the ground as it rolled forward over the back of his head. Lopendra had awakened, and apparently the battle raging in front of her had given her plenty of time to chew through the ropes that once held her and break free. Fatheade laughed a bit at the Pikachu's situation, then glanced down at the Venipede as she came to a stop by his side and unrolled her body.

"Nice one," he said, patting her on the back slightly before returning his focus to the Pikachu who was now pulling himself free of the dirt and almost appeared to be visibly shaking with rage. "But like I said a second ago… this ain't over yet."

"Oh, you don't have to tell _me,_" she snapped. "I've barely even _started_."

With that, she curled up into a ball once again, spinning rapidly in place before speeding off toward her target for a second time. He had managed to get back on his feet just in time to be bowled over once again, this time being thrown up into the air as the rampaging ball of buggity wrath that Lopendra had become smashed into his legs. As she rolled off past him and began to turn, Fatheade took this chance to lunge forward and launch an attack of his own, leaping toward the Pikachu and inflating slightly so as to crash into him just before he hit the ground and bounce him into a nearby tree. Lopendra came back around for another pass, but since her target was no longer in the spot she was expecting him to be, she slowed down and uncurled once again to catch her bearings and prepare for the next attack.

The leader of the Pikachus, now bruised and covered in dirt to go along with the numerous scars and chunk of missing ear that he already had, stood back up and clenched one of his fists tightly. His cheek pouches both crackled with electricity, which rapidly spread to cover his entire body, illuminating him with a shining globe of chaotic, sparking yellow light.

"You… you _fools!_", he screamed, making sure he could be heard over the crackling sound around him that was steadily growing louder and louder. "Do you really think such absurd techniques could defeat P'chao Chupika, the chief of the Yellow Forest tribe!?"

He bared his teeth and let out an unearthly sound which would have almost certainly been a roar if it had come from a larger species, causing the sphere of light around him to enlarge so much that the Pikachu at its center could barely be seen. Fatheade could just barely make out another set of mouth movements from him, but at this point the electrical crackling was far too loud for whatever had been said to be heard. He and Lopendra both braced themselves for the attack, but it came too fast for Fatheade to do anything about it—streaking off across the ground, leaving a trail of scorched earth and arcs of yellow-white electricity behind it, P'chao and the sphere of energy that surrounded him smashed into the Jigglypuff, sending him flying through the air with a trail of smoke and sparks behind him. Lopendra tucked herself into a ball at that very moment, causing a translucent sphere of greenish, almost feather-like energy to swirl up around her; when the electricity-cloaked Pikachu swerved across the ground toward her, he found that no amount of effort could force the attack through, bouncing off of the shield harmlessly as the electrical energy faded away from his body. He now looked even more ragged than before, as if just using such an attack exhausted him; when Lopendra uncurled herself and Fatheade struggled to pull himself back to his feet, he was hunched over slightly and breathing heavily.

For a moment, he paused; then he forced himself to stand up straight and raise his hand into the sky to catch the attention of his fellow Pikachus, shouting orders to them in between breaths.

"The Jigglypuff has violated our terms," he yelled, pointing at Fatheade and Lopendra. "He demanded a one-on-one battle, but look! The coward has called upon an ally to step in alongside him!"

Lopendra's eyes widened and her antennae twitched about wildly. She hadn't been awake for _that_ part of the fight, it seemed. A loud murmuring rose up from the group of Pikachus, and slowly they left behind their battles with Ed and Varney, converging on the center of the clearing where Fatheade, Lopendra, and P'chao were all standing. As his attackers finally backed off, Varney finally managed to pull himself up off of the ground. Rather than taking flight right away, however, he just propped himself up on his wings and took a breather, feeling helpless to do much of anything more than that against such overwhelming odds.

P'chao sneered at his two opponents, looking them over as he waited for his warriors to join him. The Venipede who had bowled him over twice _and_ somehow repelled his Volt Tackle was hardly scratched, her only injuries being a few minor scrapes from the night before; Fatheade, on the other hand, seemed like he was just about ready to drop, his body covered in scratches and burns after taking the brunt of the attack just seconds before. The Jigglypuff breathed heavily and then took a single heavy step forward, preparing to make another move before the other Pikachus joined in. Before he could so much as wind up for a punch, however, a high-pitched battle cry that none of the group recognized echoed through the forest around them. Most of the Pikachus turned and glanced around in search of the source of the mysterious newcomer's voice, confused by this new development; P'chao, on the other hand, just stared at Fatheade and snarled.

"Is this another friend of yours?", he asked, charging his cheeks with electricity and stepping forward. "Even so… she's a bit too late to make a difference… don't you think?"

Fathead shook his head.

"That voice ain't one of mine," he muttered, "Never heard it before in my life."

P'chao scoffed.

"You really expect me to believe that? You really are—"

Before he could finish his sentence, a flurry of star-shaped bolts of energy came speeding down from the trees overhead, making a series of sharp turns in midair before finally diving straight into him. One of the beams struck him right in the face, sending him stumbling backward; the others followed up by slamming him from several different angles at once, knocking him back and forth in the space of a few inches before finally letting up and causing him to tumble to the ground. P'chao coughed, causing a few flecks of blood to mar the yellow fur around his mouth, and then immediately slipped away into unconsciousness. The other Pikachus panicked, a few running over to their fallen leader so that they could carry him off to safety while most just ran away from the scene as fast as they could. The few that dared to stay behind soon found themselves the target of more sparkling rays of energy, one or two of them swooping down from above and homing in on each of them no matter how fast they ran or what they tried to do to lose them. Before long, the only Pikachus remaining were knocked out cold, lying on the ground in whatever uncomfortable-looking position they had fallen.

Lopendra just stood still and blinked, the twitches of her antennae now going into overdrive as she attempted to process exactly what had just happened. Fatheade's reaction was much calmer—he just let out a deep sigh of relief and sat down where he stood, looking up to the treetops and waiting for whoever had intervened to finally come out into the open. A few seconds later, there was a sound of paws scuttling against a branch overhead, and once again the mysterious voice could be heard…

"Wha—_whoa!_"

…though it was a bit less mysterious-sounding when it belonged to a clumsy Pokémon that had missed a jump and was now crashing down through the leaves. Within the next few moments, their unexpected rescuer's identity was finally revealed…

Fatheade and Lopendra just stared straight ahead as the newcomer recovered from her fall and awkwardly licked her fur clean of the dust and leaves she had accumulated during it, not stopping until every hair was perfectly in place once again. No matter how long they stared, the two investigators were unsure of exactly what they were looking at. Though some features of the Pokémon standing before them looked vaguely familiar, they were both absolutely sure that they had never seen or heard of any creature quite like it before.

"Okay," Lopendra mumbled, eyes wide. "Thanks for swooping in and everything, but… just what _are_ you?"


	8. Sylveon

**Chapter 8: Sylveon**

Their rescuer, who had come tumbling down from the trees above and crashed awkwardly to the ground, was now standing on her feet before them. She was a quadruped, covered mostly in very pale pinkish fur which grew darker in color on her feet, head, and tail. Her eyes were large and pale blue in color, and several long ribbons of similar coloration to her skin trailed behind her, seemingly hovering in the air around her for a few moments before fluttering to drape over her shoulders and the ground at her side.

"Okay," Lopendra mumbled, staring wide-eyed at the unfamiliar Pokémon. "Thanks for swooping in and everything, but… just what _are_ you?"

The newcomer smiled, showing a pair of small fangs.

"I guess you've never seen a Sylveon before, huh?"

"Never seen _or_ heard of 'em," Fatheade said, taking a few steps forward to greet the newcomer. "Though I'm guessin' that's some kinda Eevee evolution, right? I'd say… probably a Normal-type by the looks of ya. Not a lotta distinguishing features that'd go with any other type, anyway."

Lopendra blinked, then turned to take a closer look at the mystery Pokémon as she walked past, ribbons fluttering behind her. Her body shape _was_ similar to the Eevee family, now that she took a closer look; the eyes were a bit different, but her legs, size, and ears were all pretty consistent with what she knew of the many other Pokémon species that branched off from Eevee.

"Okay," the Venipede said, "So what's your _name,_ then?"

The Sylveon paused in mid-step, turning her head slightly in the direction of the Venipede's voice. One of her ears twitched slightly, causing a ripple to go through one of the ribbons attached to it.

"Oh. My name…?", she said, pausing for a moment to think. "Well… I never really liked names much, honestly. Never really had one. Everyone just calls me Sylveon... so I guess that's what you can call me, too!"

Fatheade raised an eyebrow, then shrugged.

"Huh. Well… can't say I run into that often," he said, removing his hat for a moment and brushing some dust and leaves off of it before returning it to its usual place. "Goin' by the name o' their species instead of havin' a name o' their own… last I heard, that was an old tradition that's been damn near extinct for more'n a thousand years. Ain't many people who do that kinda thing anymore."

Sylveon shrugged her shoulders slightly and smiled.

"Well, my family is kind of an odd one, I suppose," she said, walking over toward the Jigglypuff and sitting down in front of him. "Speaking of odd names… I couldn't help but notice your hat has a nametag. Are you really called _Fat-Head?_"

Fatheade groaned.

"Damn… ain't I ever gonna meet somebody who gets it right on the first try?"

"It's 'Fatheade,'" Lopendra corrected, crawling over to join the other two Pokémon. "Not 'Fat-Head.' It's pronounced 'fah-theed.'"

She nodded slightly, then turned toward the Venipede.

"And how about you? What's your name?", she said, bending low to the ground so that she and the bug were at eye level. "I suppose it's safe to say it isn't 'Venipede,' right?"

"It's Lopendra."

"'N' we've got two more from our group lyin' on the ground over there," Fatheade said, turning to walk toward the area where Ed and Varney had gone down. "Ed 'n' Varney. Both in pretty bad shape right now, thanks to those damn Pikachus… we've gotta get 'em back to the camp and get 'em cleaned up pretty soon before the yellow rats come back for more."

Sylveon nodded, looking back over toward the other side of the clearing where Fatheade was headed. Ed the Squirtle was lying unconscious in the dirt, several knocked-out Pikachus littering the ground around him; the Zubat was in better shape, since at least he had managed to hold onto consciousness, but he was visibly battered and seemed unwilling to even attempt to take flight, walking slowly along the ground on his wings toward where the Squirtle was lying. As Fatheade and Lopendra headed over to the location of their defeated allies, Sylveon took off running ahead of them, stopping just short of the place where the two were lying and volunteering to help.

"I'll carry them!"

Fatheade blinked, a bit stunned at the sudden burst of enthusiasm from the Pokémon who was still virtually a total stranger to his team at this point.

"Huh… that'd be nice," he mumbled, scratching a sore spot on his head. "Lopendra ain't quite big enough to carry the both of 'em, and I ain't in the best shape either…"

Sylveon just nodded, trotting over to the spot where Ed was lying. Her ribbons suddenly came to life, moving around almost as if they were actual appendages rather than just decorations and lifting the Squirtle up off the ground. The other set of ribbons soon moved to grab Varney, causing him to yelp a bit at first before calming down when he realized that this meant he wouldn't have to waddle all the way home on his wings (or make an attempt to fly with his injuries, which seemed like it might be even worse than the first option.) Before long, Ed was draped over Sylveon's back (with one pair of ribbons carefully holding him in place) and Varney was clutching her shoulders with his wings, almost as if he were riding her rather than simply being carried. Fatheade led the way back out of the Pikachu tribe's territory, with Lopendra bringing up the rear and constantly twitching her antennae about to detect the presence of Pikachus if any happened to be lurking nearby. Fortunately, it seemed that the majority of the Yellow Forest tribe had still not yet awakened; the team of investigators (and their unexpected new ally) soon escaped from the area where every other tree was draped in ropes and Pikachu banners, and before long they were well on their way toward returning to the campsite they had set up the night before.

* * *

Hours later, Ed awakened to the smells of food cooking on the campfire. He groggily opened his eyes and looked around, first spotting Fatheade busy cooking (as usual) and then turning his head slightly to get a glimpse of Lopendra munching away at a piece of dried meat nearby. Varney was standing on his wings nearby, wrapped up in bandages; when the young Squirtle tried to stand, he soon found out that he, too, had been similarly wrapped up. The fact that everyone was safely back at the campsite meant that they had survived the battle and escaped, but he couldn't figure out how.

After a few minutes of watching his traveling companions sitting around the campfire, talking, and preparing for lunch, he finally decided to make an attempt to stand. Though he was a bit wobbly at first, he managed to catch himself before toppling over and before long was able to balance on two legs once again. Though he seemed to still have a lingering twitch in his left hand (most likely a side-effect of so many electrical attacks messing with his nerves) and plenty of small burns all across the exposed regions of his skin, he felt surprisingly healthy for someone who had just been zapped into unconsciousness earlier that same day. Or, at least, he assumed it had been earlier the same day. It was hard to tell just by looking around.

As he took his first steps over toward the campfire, a rustling sound reached his ears. Before he could do anything to alert the others to the presence of movement in the bushes, an unfamiliar Pokémon appeared from within them, hopping out into the small clearing and carrying a large fruit in its mouth. It glanced around the campsite with its huge, blue eyes for a few seconds, then turned and spotted him, staring directly at the Squirtle and smiling. Ed's eyes widened and he nearly stumbled backward in shock.

"_T… tentacles,"_ he thought. _ "No… no way, that can't be…_"

One of the images of the future he had seen during his visit to Foudin's tent before leaving town popped back into his head. A mysterious shape, darting back and forth among the trees, with several long, tentacle-like appendages trailing behind it as it moved… He hadn't gotten a good look at the creature in the vision, but his mind immediately made a connection between what he _did_ see and the shape of the strange, ribbon-tentacled intruder standing before him now.

"Hey!", the mystery Pokémon said, dropping the fruit on the ground and smiling in his direction. "Looks like Ed's finally up!"

The Squirtle wobbled on his feet, staring blankly at the newcomer with his mouth hanging open slightly for a second before he toppled over backward and fainted. Sylveon's ears drooped slightly and she sighed.

"Or… maybe not."

"Damn," Fatheade mumbled, turning around to see the Squirtle lying on his back, wobbling back and forth slightly on the rounded part of his shell. "Guess he's in worse shape than I thought…"

As the Jigglypuff went back to focusing on cooking the team's lunch, Lopendra crawled over to the spot where Ed had fallen back over, rolling him onto his stomach and smacking his cheek lightly with her tail. At first, he didn't react; a few minutes and another couple of smacks later, he finally stirred awake again, opening his eyes to see… a faceful of Venipede butt, and her tail readying to slap him once again.

"Okay, okay!", he blurted out, pushing himself up onto all fours and scuttling backward. "I'm awake!"

"About time, too," Fatheade said, stirring the pot of soup hanging over the fire and tasting a bit of it. "We're gonna have to pack up and get outta here right after lunch. If those Pikachus spot us again, they ain't gonna let us go without a fight…"

"Yeah," Varney mumbled, reaching up with one of his wings and scratching his head. "I dunno how we would've gotten away from 'em the first time if it wasn't for Sylveon here…"

Ed blinked.

"…Sylveon? Who's that?"

Lopendra rolled her eyes.

"You saw her when you woke up before," she said. "Though… you _did_ pass out again right away, so I guess you might not remember it that well."

"She's right over there, helpin' load up the backpacks," Fatheade said, removing the pot of soup from the fire now that it was just about ready to eat. "Pretty much saved all our asses from those Pikachus back there. Figured the least we could do was give 'er some food in return."

Ed slowly turned around, looking back in the direction of the tent. Well, where the tent used to be, anyway—it seemed that it had already been packed up, along with the sleeping bags inside it and most of the other supplies aside from the cooking gear that Fatheade was still using. Standing over by the pile of packs was the unfamiliar creature he had seen for just a few seconds before, which he could only assume was the same one he had seen in Foudin's visions of the future. She was using her two pairs of tentacle-like appendages to pick up various things and stuff them into the backpacks, humming to herself as she worked and apparently not noticing (or at least not caring) that she was being watched.

"Wh… what is she?"

Sylveon's ears perked up slightly at the sound of the Squirtle's voice, and she turned her head to face him.

"Oh, I'm just another member of the Eevee family," she said, plopping the last of the tent stakes into one of the backpacks using one of her prehensile ribbons. "I guess you weren't awake when I told the others all about me, huh?"

"I… I didn't think Eevee evolutions had _tentacles…_"

Sylveon paused for a moment and then laughed.

"_Tentacles?_", she said, "You thought these were _tentacles?_ Oh no, don't be silly! They're just ribbons! They're not even attached or anything. Watch, I'll take one pair off and show you."

She bent down slightly and gnawed at the butterfly-shaped clasp that held the ribbons on, causing them to come undone and flop lifelessly onto her back. The other pair, still attached and mobile, picked up the loose ribbons and waved them around for the Squirtle to see.

"See? Not tentacles."

Ed just blinked, completely confused as to how simple ribbons were capable of moving like that (and even picking things up) if they weren't even part of this strange new Pokémon's body. Seconds later, Sylveon put the ribbons back on, and just like before they began to wave about in the air around her as if they were actual appendages rather than just accessories. Eventually, the Squirtle just decided to give up on even attempting to understand the situation (at least until he was fully awake) and turned back toward where the rest of the group was sitting. Fatheade had gotten out a set of bowls and was now distributing the soup between them, setting one on the ground for each member of the group (aside from Varney, who as usual preferred to find his own food.) His stomach growled loudly at the very sight of it. After missing breakfast and spending the later morning hours recovering from his injuries, a good meal was long overdue.

* * *

Not long afterward, the investigation team (plus one) loaded up their backpacks and headed off down the trail into the north once again. Varney, still too sore to fly at anywhere near his full speed for very long, was now riding on Sylveon's back; as Ed wasn't in great shape either, she had also volunteered to carry his backpack, which was now carefully strapped on next to the Zubat's perch. The only sign of Pikachus they saw on their way out of the Yellow Forest region was the occasional sighting of their footprints crossing the path; as far as Fatheade could tell, however, none of them were fresh. Within another couple hours of walking, they had left Pikachu territory far behind them and were able to slow their pace slightly to give those of the group who still hadn't recovered from the morning's battle a bit of a break.

As they passed through the central regions of the forest, heading further north, the investigation team spent most of their time getting to know their new traveling companion. Ed soon learned about several oddities of her life—how she came from a family of Eevees (of which she was one of six siblings, two female and four male) who had all evolved into different forms, how she had always gone by the name of her species instead of having her own individual name like most Pokémon, and how she had been living out in the forest by herself for so long now that she wasn't entirely sure how old she actually was, simply because she hadn't been keeping track as the years went by. At the same time, Sylveon had plenty of questions to ask the others—where they had come from, how long they've been on the road, where their destination was, and even an occasional question about the individual members of the investigation team. She seemed especially interested in the details of Fatheade's life, particularly those related to his past experiences with the investigation business. There was a certain sparkle in her eyes as the Jigglypuff told tales of his run-ins with thugs in dark alleys (both those he had seen coming and otherwise), tricks he had pulled off in combat situations, and the ways he had mastered many of the special moves that he had learned over the years.

In what seemed like no time at all, the sun had dipped below the horizon and the forest around them began to grow dark once again. Fatheade lit a torch once again, this time carrying it himself rather than passing it on to Ed—the Squirtle was still pretty worn-out from his encounter with the Pikachus earlier, after all. At Sylveon's suggestion, he decided to make a second torch which she could carry as well, allowing the faster members of the group (her and Lopendra) to go at their own pace rather than holding back so that they wouldn't get too far ahead of the radius of light provided by Fatheade's torch. They walked for another hour by torchlight before finally deciding to set up camp for the night.

It had been a long day, and none of the investigation team really felt like putting forth the effort of cooking a big meal, so they decided that some fruit and scraps of the dried meat that Lopendra had brought along would be enough to tide them over until breakfast the next morning. Varney, not quite feeling up to the task of circling the campsite for hours on end, decided to head off to bed early this time, leaving Lopendra the task of their first guard shift. Ed soon headed off to bed as well, leaving the Venipede sitting by the gradually fading fire alongside Fatheade and Sylveon, who was curled up on the ground in front of the fire pit but still awake.

"So," Lopendra asked, turning toward the newcomer, "How long _are_ you going to keep following us around, anyway?"

Sylveon shrugged.

"Oh, I don't know," she said. She paused for a moment and just stared into the fire, its orange glow reflecting off of her eyes. "I figured I'd just tag along for a little while, since we're both going in the same direction after all."

"Huh," Fatheade said, puffing on one of the few cigars that he had brought along. "So you're goin' up north, too? Ain't a lot up there last time I checked… least not once ya get past Polunk, anyway. Just snow-covered forests as far as the eye can see, until ya start to hit the ice fields anyway."

"Yep," she said, "Lots of trees up there. You know, I've always liked trees. They remind me of home…"

She closed her eyes and smiled. A few minutes of near-total silence passed, with Fatheade blowing some smoke rings through the tiny stream of smoke that rose up from what was left of the campfire and Lopendra quietly munching away at a piece of fruit. Eventually, the Jigglypuff opened his mouth to say something else, only to find himself shushed by one of his buggy comrade's antennae.

"Didn't you notice?", she whispered, keeping the antenna in place but turning her body slightly so that her tail pointed toward Sylveon. "She's already drifted off…"

Fatheade took a closer look, noticing that her eyes had slipped shut and the ribbons that usually waved about in the air around her had once again drooped down, behaving like normal cloth for once. He nodded slightly and put out what was left of the cigar, tossing the tiny stub that remained into the fire before putting it out with a bucket of water he had filled up earlier. Lopendra walked off away from the now-extinguished fire pit and sighed slightly; unless Sylveon decided to wake up and volunteer for a shift of her own at some point, it was going to be a long night.


	9. Fork in the Road

**Chapter 9: Fork in the Road**

The sixth day of the investigation team's journey north was off to a good start, even considering that most of the team's members were still sore from the previous day's battles. Though they moved further and further into the northern lands with every step they took, the weather was unusually warm for the time of year, and they were fortunate enough to arrive at an old stone bridge crossing a wide, shallow stream right around noon—the perfect spot to have a lunch break, and also a much-needed bath. While Sylveon (who seemed to be perpetually squeaky-clean) prepared the meal and Lopendra sat on the bridge alongside the backpacks to protect them from any possible thieves, Fatheade, Varney, and Ed all removed their old bandages and waded into the fresh, cool water that cut its own path through the forest. The water here was too shallow for most aquatic Pokémon to live in, which meant that there was no threat of large predators such as Gyarados suddenly appearing; the only local Pokémon any of them caught sight of during their brief bath were a Marill sunbathing on the shore a couple dozen feet away and a few small Woopers splashing about in the deeper waters further downstream, just barely within sight.

After the three bathing Pokémon had finished cleaning up, they climbed back up onto the bridge and dried off for a bit before heading over to the spot where Sylveon was waiting with their lunch. For Varney and Lopendra, she had fished some Surskit eggs out of the stream and boiled them, cracking them open to reveal a bundle of tiny, lightly-cooked bugs. The Zubat, though usually preferring to feed on blood, definitely didn't mind a bug-based meal every now and then and dug in, finishing off the pile of immature Surskits in just a few minutes. Lopendra scarfed down both the Surskit larvae and their eggshells as well, finishing her meal with a few berries she had found herself while waiting for the rest of the team to finish their baths. Fatheade and Ed had a very different meal—a small stack of sandwiches was set out on a plate next to the rest of the food, along with a small pile of assorted fruits, nuts, and berries. Once the Jigglypuff and Squirtle had each chosen a sandwich and sat down to eat, Sylveon joined them, picking up the remaining sandwich with one pair of her prehensile ribbons and daintily munching away at it.

"I wonder who built this bridge," Ed said in between bites of his sandwich. "I mean, it could've been the Pikachus, but they seemed to make everything out of wood and rope… and there aren't really any other towns too close by."

"Hmm," Fatheade hmmed in response, unable to get much of an actual word out until after he had finished chewing. "Yeah… hadn't really thought much about it. It ain't anything too unusual, though… plenty o' places have old bridges left behind by people who used'ta live there. I figure whoever cleared out this road probably put the bridge here, too."

Ed just nodded in response and took another big bite of his sandwich.

"Makes sense," Lopendra said, slurping down what was left of the last boiled Surskit eggs.

While everyone continued to eat their lunch and chat a bit, the Squirtle began to notice that the bridge they were sitting on was covered in many small carvings, some of which resembled pictures and others seemed to be some form of writing. The stone was so old and covered in moss that he could barely make out any detail, but still he found himself almost mesmerized by the patterns, adjusting his glasses slightly and staring intently at the side of the bridge nearest to him in an attempt to figure out just what had been carved their by its original builders many years ago. Along with a variety of symbols that were too faded to even begin to recognize, there were circles, hexagons, triangles, and some sort of unusual spiraling pattern, which he spotted among both the writing-like carvings and those that seemed to have been pictures originally. Something about these symbols and patterns that were repeated over and over again in the carvings seemed almost familiar to him, though with his faulty memory he couldn't figure out _why._

Before long, the group had finished eating and strapped on their packs once again, preparing to set off on what would probably be their last full day of traveling before they finally reached Polunk Village. Ed now felt refreshed enough to carry his own backpack, meaning that Varney had Sylveon's back to himself and was able to lie down and take a bit of a nap while on the road—for once, he was able to have something closer to his usual sleep schedule rather than staying up all day and sleeping through part of the night and the early morning that followed.

As the group walked off down the northbound road with Sylveon in the lead, the sunbathing Marill suddenly sprung awake, turning to face the road and staring blankly in the direction that the investigation team had gone. The round, blue creature slowly, jerkily waddled along the stream's bank until it was standing right at the edge of the old bridge, turning to look down the road and just staring straight ahead as the travelers disappeared into the distance. Once they had finally passed beyond sight of the bridge, the Marill smiled slightly and then spoke.

"Fatheade DeStaav," the water-mouse said, her smile growing even wider as she voiced his name. "She is almost ready for him. She is almost ready to begin his transformation. Soon… he will take his place among us."

* * *

The rest of the day's travels went by peacefully, though as the sun set and the forest around them grew dark once again the colder weather that they had been expecting from the north seemed to come on all of a sudden. As they continued down the trail late into the night, Fatheade and Sylveon both holding torches like they had done the night before, chilly winds caused Varney to shiver (despite the fact that he was snuggled up against Sylveon's rather warm and fluffy back) and Ed was no longer able to keep up with the pace he had been traveling at before. Though she wouldn't admit it, Lopendra was beginning to grow a bit sluggish due to the cold as well, and now she had to almost run just to keep up with the circle of torchlight that surrounded Sylveon. Before long, she ended up lagging too far behind and had to walk just ahead of Fatheade instead.

"Brrr… gettin' kinda cold out here," the Jigglypuff mumbled, tugging on his backpack straps in an attempt to block some of the wind. "I'm thinkin' we oughta set up camp pretty soon… get a good fire goin', get some food in our bellies, 'n' warm up a bit before bed."

Ed nodded. Lopendra's antennae twitched slightly in a way that the Jigglypuff had come to know meant that she agreed as well, but didn't feel like putting forth the effort to actually say it. Varney didn't respond; he seemed too busy snuggling closer to Sylveon's back fur in an attempt to retain what little warmth was left to really pay much attention to anything else around him. Within the next few minutes, Fatheade had spotted a spot off the side of the road that seemed just large enough to fit both the tent and a decent-sized fire pit, and he let out a quick grunt to the rest of the group to catch their attention, pointing his torch toward the campsite he had picked out. Sylveon turned and nodded before turning in mid-stride and heading off the trail, and before long the rest of the group caught up with her and a series of backpacks quickly hit the ground. It was only a few minutes before Fatheade had gotten a fire going (which Ed, Lopendra, and Varney all crowded around as quickly as they could) and Sylveon had set up the tent.

"I guess you guys don't come this far north often, huh?", Sylveon asked, walking over to the side of the fire where three of the four investigators were huddled together and laughing slightly at the sight of them. "Not even below forty degrees yet and you already look like you're halfway to freezing."

Ed just nodded silently, glancing to his sides. Varney was now wrapped up in one of the three scarves he had brought along, and though Lopendra had not yet gotten cold enough to resort to her much-loathed Weedle-silk sweater, the way she was still shivering made it seem like it would only take a drop of a few more degrees before she would be forced to take such extreme measures.

"Yeah… I've been up here before," Fatheade said, "But it ain't happened often, especially not so close to winter. Ain't been up this far since before any o' these kids joined up with the investigation team."

"Well, I guess it's a good thing you aren't going any further north than Polunk, then," Sylveon said. "I hear the snow's already started where I'm headed. You'd probably be fine, Fatheade, but the rest of you…"

Fatheade just nodded, then focused on cooking a good, warm meal for the team—a pot of hearty stew that was just coming to a boil, some kind of fruit-filled pastries, and some of Lopendra's dried meat which was stuck on the end of a few sticks and slowly roasting over the fire.

"Yeesh," Varney grumbled. "If this ain't even as cold as it gets, I really hope we make it back home before winter comes around…"

Ed nodded in agreement. His glasses were starting to fog up slightly, but there was nothing he could have really done about it without smudging them up or squirting some water around—and as cold as it was, he didn't want to risk getting anything wet or weakening the fire.

"I might have to borrow one of your scarves," he said, turning toward the Zubat. "I mean, you've got three of them, right?"

"Sure… no problem… just as long as it doesn't get too much colder," he mumbled. He already had one of the scarves wrapped tightly around his whole body along with his wings. "Can't give up more than one of 'em, though… I know I'm gonna need two if it gets much colder."

After wolfing down their meal in a mad rush to get it into their system before the occasional gusts of ever-colder wind had a chance to cool it down, the investigation team rushed over to the tent and bundled up into their sleeping bags. As both Varney and Lopendra were both unwilling to stay outside in the cold overnight, Fatheade and Sylveon decided to split up guard duty this time, with the team's temporary traveling companion taking the first shift and Fatheade getting up just before dawn and taking over until everyone else was up and moving around. Sylveon walked over to the other side of the fire and watched the road while the leader of the group headed in for the night, leaving a bucket of water outside as he went just in case the campfire (which, this time, was left burning) tried to spread outside the boundaries of the fire pit.

Before long, a set of quiet snores (and some occasional not-so-quiet ones from Fatheade) began to resound from within the tent, leaving Sylveon the only one of the group awake. She stared through the flames at the tent for a moment, her ribbons somehow fluttering behind her in the same way they always did despite the wind blowing in the opposite direction, and smiled.

* * *

"Polunk shouldn't be too much further now," Fatheade said, packing up the last of the team's supplies into his oversized backpack. The weather was not much warmer now than it had been the night before, but the cold winds had died down a bit, being replaced by the warmth that came along with the light of the rising sun. "We oughta hit the edge of the village right around lunchtime if we keep goin' at the rate we've been walkin'."

"And there's no more interruptions," Lopendra added, following this audible sentence up with some grumbling that was a bit too quiet for anyone but Varney to hear. The Zubat, now recovered well enough to take flight again without any difficulties, snickered slightly.

Sylveon yawned and headed off down the road with Varney fluttering overhead, followed shortly afterward by the rest of the group. The Zubat was still wearing his scarf, though the slightly warmed weather meant that he now allowed it to flutter behind him as he flew rather than wrapping the cloth around his whole body to hold in as much warmth as possible. After about an hour of walking, the trees began to thin out a bit, and some regions of slightly rocky fields with mountains in the distance became visible.

"Not too much further now," Sylveon said, taking a look through the trees as she passed an area where the forest was less dense than usual. "There's going to be a fork in the road sometime within the next hour—you'll want to take a left turn over to Polunk when you get there."

Fatheade nodded.

"Yeah… the letter we got from the village came with directions," he said. "Said there was gonna be an old wooden sign pointin' out the way up ahead, too."

There was a brief pause in the conversation as the group just continued to trudge ahead down the road, which (much like the fields visible around it) was now becoming rockier and more uneven than before. The trees around them became smaller and smaller as they came closer to the forest's edge, and some of them were even beginning to lose their leaves with the cold season's approach. Before long, Fatheade caught sight of the fork in the road up ahead—this was where Sylveon would have to leave them, continuing on northward to whatever unknown destination she was seeking out.

"'Ey, Sylveon," the Jigglypuff said, "Looks like that fork in the road's comin' up pretty soon. 'N' speakin' o' that… ya never did tell us just where ya were headed, I don't think."

She paused, turning her head slightly as the slower members of the team caught up.

"Oh? I didn't?", she said, looking a bit puzzled. "Hmm… I guess I must've forgotten to mention it. Sorry about that!"

"Kind of a big thing to just forget to mention," Lopendra grumbled, one of her antennae twitching slightly. "Do you even _know_ where you're going?"

"Well… yes and no," she said, ears drooping slightly. "I mean… I know _what_ I'm looking for, and I know it's somewhere deep in the forest north of here… I just don't know _exactly_ where it is."

Fatheade raised an eyebrow slightly.

"And… just what _is_ this thing, anyway?"

"Well," Sylveon began, her ribbons twitching a bit despite the fact that they weren't actually part of her body. She seemed nervous, and everyone else around could tell. "I've heard about this tree somewhere far off in the north, and it… well… it's not just any ordinary tree, you know? This tree is… well, it's _really_ important."

Ed blinked.

"A… tree?"

Once again, his mind raced back to the images he had seen in the Alakazam fortuneteller's tent six days before. Among shadowy outlines of all sorts of normal trees, one seemed to stand out, with strange, spiraling, leafless branches stretching out high into the sky above the clearing where it was rooted. He briefly wondered if this could be the same tree that Sylveon was referring to, but before he had a chance to think about it much more than that, her voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Yep," she said, turning slightly to face him. "I've never actually seen it, and it's only rumored to actually exist… but the legends say that this tree has the power to grant the wishes of anyone who manages to find it."

She paused for a few moments, putting one of her ribbons to her chin like other Pokémon might do with a hand. Then, before anyone could ask any more questions, she continued.

"Well… maybe it's the tree, or maybe it's something hidden away _inside_ the tree," she said, looking a bit confused. "I haven't been able to figure out which one it is for sure… the legends aren't always consistent, you know?"

Fatheade shrugged, then nodded slightly.

"Yeah… old stories can be like that," he said. "People keep passin' 'em down for so long nobody even remembers if they were real in the first place, or just a buncha garbage somebody made up."

Sylveon frowned.

"Well, I sure hope it _isn't_ just a bunch of garbage," she huffed. "This is going to be an awfully long trip… I don't know _what_ I'll do it turns out it was all for nothing."

"Yeah… that'd suck," Varney said, swooping low and landing on the ground next to where Sylveon was standing. "Especially with how _cold_ it's gotta be up there. I don't think I'd wanna go that far north even if there _was_ a magic wish-granting tree up there."

The group took a brief break for the next few minutes, everyone getting a quick drink (and Lopendra munching down a few berries that she found growing off the edge of the path) before they continued toward the point where a second road veered off to the left. Though it took them a few seconds to spot it, there was indeed an old wooden sign pointing the way to Polunk Village—though it had apparently seen better days, as the wooden post that once held it up was missing and it was propped up against a nearby tree instead. The grass at the tree's base covered up the bottom of the sign, but the part that said "Polunk," at least, was still visible if you knew where to look for it.

"Well, here we are," Fatheade said, walking past the rest of the group and taking his first steps down the road toward the little northern village. "Looks like that other path headin' deeper into the forest is yours, Sylveon. Be careful up there."

She nodded, then waved goodbye with her ribbons, the tips of them curling up slightly so that they resembled hands. Just before she started to head off down the trail toward her own mysterious destination, however, there was a heavy _thud_ as a massive, grey-skinned Pokémon leaped from a nearby tree and came smashing down between Sylveon and the others. This was shortly followed by rustling sounds in the bushes nearby as a pair of Timburrs rushed out to join the Machoke, one of them wielding what was most likely the missing signpost and the other carrying a crude club made from part of a downed tree.

"Hey," the Machoke said, cracking his knuckles and then pointing one finger in Sylveon's direction. "Yeah, you. Miss pink-'n'-fluffy. I ain't seen any Pokémon like _you_ around here before."

"Yeah!", one of the Timburrs shouted, brandishing the signpost that apparently served as his weapon. "I bet _she's_ that thing that's been attackin' folks around here!"

Fatheade stepped forward, shaking his head.

"Doubt it," he grumbled. "She ain't even been around here lately. She's been travelin' with us the past few days, ever since we bumped into 'er down around Yellow Forest."

He took off his backpack and reached around in it for a few seconds, eventually pulling out a copy of the letter from Polunk's elder that had started this whole journey. Holding it up to the trio of Fighting-types, he pointed out a few lines.

"Besides… you really think she's the kinda thing that'd be able to shrug off a Dragon Pulse from the town elder like that?", he continued. "I mean, sure, she's tougher'n she looks… but not _that_ tough. Whatever this thing you're lookin' for is, it's gotta be a Steel-type of some kind, I'm tellin' ya."

The Machoke took a step forward, snatching the letter out of Fatheade's hands and reading over it for a few moments. He then crumpled it up into a ball and tossed it back at the Jigglypuff, apparently not impressed.

"I don't care if you _are_ some kinda detectives workin' for Elder Lukhan," he said, "Boss told us to shake down anybody we come across who ain't from around here. An' your little friend over there's lookin' _real_ suspicious. What species is she, anyway?"

"Sylveon," Fatheade said. "Don't blame ya if ya never heard of 'em, I hadn't either. Seems like another new Eevee evolution shows up every time ya blink anymore…"

One of the two Timburrs took a close look at the unfamiliar Pokémon, looking from several angles and even squinting slightly at one point. Eventually, he turned and shook his head.

"Oh, no," he said, "We ain't fallin' for that one again."

Fatheade raised an eyebrow slightly at the word "again." How often could there possibly be a wandering Pokémon pretending to be an Eevee relative? The only species he could think off right away that might be able to pull it off was a Delcatty, but even then there'd be a few things that would give it away.

"Yeah," the other Timburr finally spoke, "Them big blue eyes just ain't right for an Eevee evolution. We got an Eevee family right here in town, and ain't none of 'em's got eyes like those."

The Machoke flexed slightly, then came another few steps closer to Fatheade, his shadow looming over the Jigglypuff... especially when he bent down slightly and looked him right in the eye.

"Now… are you punks gonna tell us what she _really_ is," he said, lowering one of his fists so that it was just inches away from Fatheade's face, "Or are we gonna have to beat it outta ya?"

"I already told ya," Fatheade said, frowning and shifting his feet into a battle stance. "That's all we know about 'er. Don't have'ta believe me, but if ya start a fight over this crap, all you're gonna get from me is a few new bruises."

Ed gulped and backed away slightly. Varney just circled overhead and listened, preparing for an opening to attack in case a fight broke out; Lopendra did much the same, though on the ground instead of in flight. Before anyone could make a move, Sylveon came trotting over, ribbons rippling in the wind behind her. She waved one of them to get the attention of the three thugs, then grinned so that her fangs were visible.

"Don't worry," she said, "I'll take care of these guys."

The two Timburrs brandished their weapons, one sneering and the other looking a bit confused. Their apparent leader turned away from Fatheade and stood back up to his full height, cracking his neck and then pointing toward Sylveon as he gave an order to his minions.

"Huh… looks like she wants a fight," he said, staring down incredulously at the pink, frilly creature that dared to stand up to him. "Pound 'er."

The two nodded and lunged forward, each preparing to swing his makeshift club at the mystery Pokémon in front of them. Before they could even get near her, however, a flurry of energy stars flashed into existence around her, each one spiraling down the length of one of her ribbons in a split-second before launching forward. The Machoke ducked down and crossed his arms over his chest just before the impact, but the Timburr duo were not so lucky—unable to stop their charge in mid-step, each of them took half a dozen of the star-shaped blasts head-on. They were both sent sailing backward, crashing in the bushes off the edge of the road with their weapons (the signpost now broken, with a large crack and a star-shaped hole in it) clattering to the ground shortly after them.

Sylveon hopped back slightly as the Machoke uncrossed his arms and took a step forward. Though his arms and lower torso were now covered with small star-shaped burn marks, it seemed that the Swift attack had not done much more than surface-level damage. He growled and threw himself forward full-force, throwing a punch that only narrowly missed his target and sent loose dirt and small rocks from the road flying everywhere on impact. He tried again, this time ducking down slightly and attempting to knock Sylveon off her feet with a swing from one of his own massive legs, but she just hopped over the kick and then backed even further away.

"Yeah… you're real good at jumpin' and dodgin', huh?", he snarled. "What, are ya afraid to take a hit or somethin'?"

She shook her head.

"Nah," she said, sticking her tongue out at him. "I just don't want your grubby paws on my fur, that's all."

The Machoke growled, lunging forward once again. This time, Sylveon wasn't quite quick enough to dodge—the larger Pokémon's fist came speeding toward her face before she could hop back any further. She flinched away slightly and closed her eyes just before impact… and then let out a piercing shriek as if she was in the worst pain she had ever experienced. Her opponent's fist stopped short of her face and he cringed and shivered slightly, ears ringing from the sound.

"Damn," the Machoke grumbled, staggering back slightly and blinking a few times in confusion. He shook his head a bit, trying to get the ringing in his ears to stop. "What the hell was _that_ all about? I ain't even hit ya yet!"

Sylveon opened her eyes and grinned—a different grin than before, this one almost menacing despite the entirely non-threatening appearance of the face it was plastered across. Her ribbons suddenly reared up and began to twirl as if being blown about in all different directions at once; the Machoke only had enough time to widen his eyes and open his mouth slightly before he was sent flying backward by a sudden gust of wind. He smashed back-first into the trees, snapping a few weaker branches along the way before finally coming to a stop upon impact with the trunk of an ancient oak. For a moment, he seemed to hang there in midair, the last few remnants of the wind holding him up against the tree; then, his eyes rolled shut and he collapsed to the ground with a _thump,_ nearly flattening a small bush under his weight. Sylveon's ribbons slowly stopped twirling and swaying about and returned to their usual position, trailing back behind her body and hovering in midair.

"Whoa," Ed mumbled. "How did you…"

"Damn… that was pretty impressive," Fatheade said, glancing over to where the Machoke had landed for a second before turning back toward Sylveon. "I mean, I knew Swift wasn't gonna be the only thing you could do, but… damn. Can't say I was expectin' somethin' like that."

Sylveon just smiled slightly and nodded, then turned to head down the path deeper into the northern woods, like she had been about to before Polunk's less-than-polite welcoming committee had interrupted her. Fatheade, Ed, Varney, and Lopendra all waved goodbye to her as she vanished into the shadows of the tall pines, then turned toward the other road and continued on their own journey. As the investigation team came up over a small, rocky hill and went around another bend in the road, a few old huts on the outskirts of Polunk Village slowly drifted out of the last lingering banks of morning fog and into their field of vision. They were almost there.


End file.
